


I Can See You Through The Flames

by LittleLynn



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Feels and fluff and smut, M/M, and I thought it worked surprisingly well for barduil, because I have a literary boner for that book, no seriously whether or not my writing is up to scratch the story works well, not necessarily in that order, yes this is essentially a Jane Eyre au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 12:26:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 62,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3850924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLynn/pseuds/LittleLynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bard Bowman manages to get a job tutoring a young boy at Mirkwood Hall, he and his children move to the strange and dark estate. It does not take long for him to realise that there is something hiding amidst its walls and behind the blank mask of its mysterious lord. Despite his gut warnings that something is not as it seems, he still cannot help the foolish way that he falls for his lord and employer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ahh my entry into the Barduil Big Bang!! My blood sweat and tears went into this so I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> [The playlist,](http://8tracks.com/littleallylynn/i-can-see-you-through-the-flames) well, a playlist, the one I was listening to while I wrote this anyway
> 
> Beautiful art by Merinia can be found[ here!](http://merinia.tumblr.com/post/119569334930/when-bard-bowman-manages-to-get-a-job-tutoring-a)

 

Bard sat with his children in the back of the rickety carriage, bouncing somewhat precariously along the dirt road. Sigrid and Bain were fast asleep, as they had been for most of the journey, leaning against each other as the carriage rattled around. And little Tilda was snoring lightly against his chest, bundled up in his arms – and incidentally his coat as she had been shivering.

Bard had been lucky to receive the post of tutor at Mirkwood Hall, he hadn’t held out much hope when he had applied, not expecting a lord to want three children to be moving in to his hall no matter how experienced the teacher was.

But much to his surprise, his application had been accepted, so he and the children packed up their things and left that dour school for good. Lowood had improved in the last few years it was true, but the place still held unpleasant memories for Bard, unfortunately it had been the only place he had been able to get a job, and with three mouths to feed, he had had very little choice in taking and keeping the post there.

Until now that was. Now he was on the way to Mirkwood Hall, where he would be working as the tutor presumably for whatever little lordling resided there. Bard did not know anything beyond the address and that he would be tutoring a child, but it had been long past time to leave Lowood, and this should be far pleasanter for his children as well. Besides, if it was not, they would simply leave, they always found a way to keep going, and nothing had managed to stop them yet, so long as they stuck together.

The carriage would take the all the way up to Mirkwood Hall he hoped they would be able to settle quickly, he already knew he was going to have to carry Tilda, it was far too late for her to be awake, it was too late for any of them to be up really, but Bain and Sigrid could at least rouse when they arrived.

If Bard was being honest, he was very curious to see Mirkwood Hall, he was not entirely sure what to expect from it. They had lived too far away for anyone of their class to have heard of the place.

All of Bard’s brief correspondence had been with a woman called Ms. Silvan, she seemed polite and amiable from the letters, and her script was so very neat he had begun to wonder if she was the owner of the Hall. It was not unheard of after all for a widow to inert the property, especially if the child he was supposed to be tutoring was a young lad, then he may well be her son, waiting to come of age, leaving her in charge until then. Either way, Bard though that from her letters at least, that she was a nice woman.

Bard continued his musing on various possibilities about his new home and employer right up until the carriage ground to a halt on the gravel outside the hall. Unfortunately it had been very dark, and any hopes Bard had had of getting a good look at their new home were gone with nightfall – which had been many hours previously as their carriage had been rather late.

Bard picked up Tilda and he stepped out, managing to take one of their bags as well, they only had three between them so it wasn’t difficult for them all to carry them, even with Tilda to be carried as well.

As he left the carriage he could get an idea of the of the size of the hall but nothing more, the rest Obscured by darkness, there didn’t appear to be many candles lit inside Mirkwood Hall either.

Bard knocked on the grand doors and was relieved when they were opened quickly, it was really very cold out and the last thing he needed was for any of them to catch a cold. He could always do without that, let alone when starting a new job.

The woman who opened the door was a lot younger than Bard expected, although, he wasn’t sure exactly what he had been expecting, if anything at all really.

She had long red hair all the way down to her waist, a pale complexion with pretty features and green eyes that were sparkling slightly in the candlelight. Her clothes were far plainer than what he had expected from who he assumed was Ms. Silvan, but he supposed that could well be personal inclination opposed to anything else.

“Ms. Silvan?” Bard guessed, hoping he didn’t look too wildly unprofessional with a six year old on his hip and two more children at his sides looking like they were actually sleepwalking, not to mention the general travel (and life) worn state of them.

“Tauriel, please.” The woman, Tauriel, smiled back at them. “And I am guessing that you are the Bowmans?”

“Yes, I’m Bard and this is Tilda, Sigrid and Bain. Sorry we’re so late, the carriage was late picking us up.” Bard introduced them, hoping Tauriel didn’t mind having been kept up to wait for them.

He did wonder why a servant wouldn’t be tasked with it instead of who he was assuming to be the mistress of the house, but then, she did seem to be a very kind woman so maybe this was just her way. Not many women of her standing would want to be addressed by her given name, especially from the staff.

“Well that’s hardly your fault. Come on then, in you come, no sense standing out there in the cold.” She stated, ushering them into the warmth and shaking each of their hands (much to his children’s delight).

“Thank you.” Bard smiled as he came through the door after his children, Tilda lifting her head and offering her little hand as well, which Tauriel smiled and shook just like the others. Bard had a feeling he was going to enjoy working here.

“Not a problem. Now I’d keep your coats on until we get to your rooms, you don’t want anything else to carry and it’s not particularly warm in this big old hall anyway.” Tauriel explained, effectively halting his kids from removing their coats, which was customary when you entered a hall.

Tauriel plucked the suitcase out of his hand before he could even protest, smiling at Tilda and leaving Bard to concentrate on carrying her instead of his case as well.

“You don’t have to, I can manage.” Bard said politely, though really he was very glad she had taken it so he could hold onto his daughter easier, but something English in him knew that he should at least offer to take the case back.

“Don’t be silly, you’ve got little one to worry about, besides, it’s no trouble.” She waved him off, leading the way down the various corridors, Bard doing his best to try and start memorising the route (before deciding that there was no way he was going to remember it in his tired state and giving up entirely).

“Thank you.” Bard replied genuinely, Tauriel just smiled and ushered them into a room.

It was a relatively small room, but Bard had hardly expected anything different, there was one bed, a little bedside table, a desk, a wardrobe and even a little table. Bard was more than happy to give his children the bed and set up a cot for himself on the floor, hopefully they would have a few extra blankets they could spare, if not, they would manage. The fact that they had allowed him to bring his children was kind enough, he didn’t want to become more of a burden than he was worth.

However, before Bard could ask about some extra blankets, Tauriel was opening the door to an adjoining room, about the same size but with three more beds in there.

“Thank you.” Bard said again, prompty tucking Tilda gently into one of the three beds and kissing her head as she snuggled down. “Come on you two get to bed, I’ll see you in the morning.” Bard instructed his other two children, giving them a light kiss atop their head as they each gave him a hug before setting themselves into bed as well.

He closed the door quietly behind himself as he and Tauriel re-entered the room where he would be sleeping.

“A quick tour of the hall perhaps? If you are not too tired, it would be good for you to have your bearings, although your lessons needn’t start until the day after tomorrow to give you time to settle in.” She suggested, gesturing to the door and Bard nodded, he had enough energy in him for a quick tour, and she was right, it would be useful.

“Honestly, thank you, you have been so kind already.” Bard said, hoping that she could see how genuine he was being as she led him out the room.

“Oh don’t be so silly, as if I was going to let you turn up without anyone to greet you.”  She smiled, waving him off once again.

“Still, I hardly expected the lady of the house to stay up to greet us and then show me around, it is incredibly thoughtful of you.” Bard pushed, wanting her to accept his gratitude.

Tauriel stopped and turned to look at him in the corridor with a bemused expression before studying Bard’s face for a moment and bursting out with laughter. Really she was laughing so hard she was actually leaning against the wall for support and wiping away a stray tear.

“Um, Tauriel?” Bard asked, he was confused about what exactly he had said that was so funny.

“S-sorry, it’s just, the idea, of me, oh my goodness, sorry, one moment.” Tauriel got out between laughs before slowly regaining herself through a few steading deep breaths and forcing herself to quieten.

“Um..?”

“Sorry. Yes, no I am not the lady of the house, and should anyone hear you suggest it I can promise you they would laugh even harder than I. Me, the lady of the house.” She snorted the last bit. “I’m the housekeeper, head of the household staff.”

“Oh, sorry, I just assumed because you placed the advertisement and never mentioned anyone else.” Bard blushed embarrassed.

“Well, Mr. Oropherion, the master of Mirkwood Hall.” She said with a teasing smile. “Is barely ever here to be honest. He spends much of his time away in Europe, normally going many months between visits to the hall. So when it became apparent that young master Legolas was going to need a proper tutor I just wrote him a letter, to which he most eloquently replied ‘do whatever you see fit’.” She chuckled, clearly begrudgingly fond of his antics.

“Oh, do you know when he is next due to return?” Bard asked, curious about his new employer.

“It is hard to say, most likely in a month or so, but it is difficult to be sure. Sometimes he sends warning, sometimes he does not, so everything must be kept perpetually ready for him. He could turn up tomorrow for all I am able to predict his movements.” She explained, that fond tone still lacing its way through her words, she at least clearly liked working for him.

“I see.” Bard joined in her smile. “What is he like?” He asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Oh, well, he’s, uh…do you know, I have absolutely no idea how to describe him, you’ll just have to wait until he turns up I suppose.” She finished with a shrug. Bard was already intrigued by him, and he hadn’t even met the man yet.

“What about the child you said I would be tutoring, Legolas? I think you called him.” Bard inquired, trying his best to say it right, from Tauriel’s smile, he had managed it.

“He’s a sweet boy, only seven and a little spoiled but really he’s a good boy.  Although he is always a bit of a handful when Mr Oropherion is home. He loves it when he is back so much that he throws little tantrums when he isn’t allowed to spend time with him. But he is a busy man and can’t spend every day with him. Hopefully Legolas will like you enough that it won’t be too much of a problem, but then again, he still sulks even when I spend the whole day with him if Mr Oropherion is home.” She shook her head while smiling, yet another little quirk of the family that she was apparently begrudgingly fond of.

“Mr Oropherion doesn’t have a wife?” Bard continued, and he knew he was being nosy, but he couldn’t help his naturally inquisitive nature, especially into a man that already seemed to be such an enigma.

“- no.” Tauriel said almost uncomfortably and after a slight pause, almost like there was more to it, but then what on earth could there be to lie about? He supposed there was the question of who Legolas’ mother was then.

“Legolas’ mother?” He asked, at least here he could claim that it would help him to better understand the child, the subject seemed like a more comfortable one for Tauriel and she relaxed minutely again.

“A woman from Europe. There was some controversy over his paternity for a while – which was ridiculous because Legolas is the absolute spit of him – and besides, despite the claims that he might not be his, still he visited, and when she died, he didn’t even hesitate to scoop the boy up and bring him here. I don’t think it matters to him whether or not Legolas is his by blood, he always wanted a child, and though he likes to remain vague on his legitimacy, you can see he loves him and treats him as a son.” She explained easily. “I should imagine he will make him legitimate as soon as he is able.”

Maybe she was uncomfortable about his question on whether Mr Oropherion had a wife because he wanted one but had, for whatever reason failed to court one. The reason would probably be uncomfortable given his station, it should’ve been easy for him.

“Ah I see. As far as my children go, where are they permitted to go?”

“Your delightful children are welcome in any rooms that are not locked while Mr Oropherion is not here, no one will mind. When he is here they will be restricted to certain rooms at certain times, do not worry, I will make it all very clear at the time. Although, I recommend that they do not annoy the kitchen unless they don’t want to be fed.” She grinned, and Bard got the distinct feeling she was looking forward to having some lively little things about the dark old place. “There are large gardens that they are more than welcome to play in, and the drawing room would be a good place for them to take their studies when they have them, nice and quiet most of the time."

“Thank you Tauriel, I am sure I would be utterly lost without you.” He smiled at her again.

“I don’t doubt it. And if they’re bored, I am sure I can come up with some little jobs for them.”

“That is probably a good idea. Bain and Sigrid especially I have no doubt will feel the need to lend a hand.” Bard said, wishing they hadn't been yanked from childhood so young. But unfortunately when their mother died in childbirth, they needed to start lending a hand with Tilda mainly. Bard wouldn’t have coped without them.

“How old are they?” She asked, and Bard was getting the feeling she doubted she would ever get the chance for children; she seemed very attached to the hall.

“Little Tilda is only six, Bain is almost eleven and Sigrid is fourteen.” Bard answered easily, it would only be a couple of months until Bain’s birthday – as he liked to remind everyone every five minutes.

 “Well, I am sure they will not be short of things to occupy them. Mr Oropherion has never minded us borrowing from the library, so long as we do not do so on the rare occasion he has guests of course, then we must stay on our appropriate level.” She explained, all the while pointing out important rooms to Bard until she came to a halt outside one.

“This is the drawing room. You will give Legolas his lessons in here between nine and four, although you are by no means bound to stay in there so long as you are with him.” She explained before heading on down yet another dark corridor. Bard had no idea if it was because it was night-time or because Mirkwood Hall was just a dark place; would have to wait to morning to find out.

“This is the dining room, useful to know of course but you will eat with the rest of us down in the servant’s kitchen. It is, as you can see, collecting dust as he has not been here for a little while. If you ask me the servant’s quarters are far more homely, none of this ridiculous grandeur.” She continued, before taking Bard through several more rooms and looping back to his chambers for the night.

He actually thought he stood a good chance of remembering most of it, if only because of the happy way Tauriel had taken him around, and some of the amusing stories she had told while doing so. Bard knew already he was going to enjoy working here with her, and he knew with absolute certainty that his children were going to love her, hopefully she wouldn’t mind.

“Thank you.” Bard said once again as he reached the door. “If you don’t mind me saying, aren't you rather young for such a senior position in the household?” Bard wondered aloud, thinking she could not be much older than twenty seven, most heads of household staff would usually be around forty.

“Yes, I guess I am. My mother was before me, I was practically raised here, so when she died I already knew everything there was to know about it from shadowing my mother for so long. It just seemed like the natural thing.” She answered easily.

“Yes I guess it would have been.” Bard smiled at her again. “Well, thank you for this, you have been ever so accommodating.”

“There are a few other things of course, but they can be explained tomorrow easily. I will even let you sleep in as the hour has grown so absurdly late. But if you head to the kitchen when you are awake, someone is bound to be able to point you in my direction. After that you are free to explore the place really.” She told him, easy smile still in place.

“Excellent, I’m sure we’ll have our bearings after exploring tomorrow.” Bard smiled warmly at her, knowing how much easier it was going to make life here with her being so open and friendly towards him and his children.

“Oh, yes I should mention. The upper left wing is utterly out of bounds, including the stout tower coming up from it, they’re…Mr Oropherion’s personal rooms. So be careful on your exploring.” She finished lightly, almost like she was trying to draw attention away from what she had just said and the suspicious pause before her explanation, an explanation that wasn’t even really needed, Bard would not go where he was not permitted by his employer whether he was given a reason or not.

 

Bard got the distinct feeling that whatever the reason they weren’t allowed in the upper left wing, it was not because they were Mr Oropherion’s personal rooms.    

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

The day after their arrival had been vastly enjoyable. The rest of the staff seemed just as happy as Tauriel was to have some children in the house, especially ones as well behaved as Bard’s. They explored the hall and Bard made sure to explain to them where they could go and how they were expect to behave.

In the light of day, well, what light was making it through the thick cloud cover, Bard could see the hall much clearer. It was large but he had already known that, made out of grey stone with crawling ivy coming up the front, something that possibly should have been beautiful, but the ivy was uncharacteristically dark and looked almost like it was a shadow creeping up the walls of the hall.

The corridors inside were similar, despite the grandeur and general opulence of the décor, there was something dark about the place, and it was not helped by the little light that the English weather allowed into the rooms. And there was a strangeness pervading everything, something bard could not pin down no matter how he tried, a coldness in the very walls. It was in such juxtaposition with the staff living there Bard almost believed his mind was playing tricks on him.

The only source of genuine brightness in the estate was the gardens. They were rich and healthy and bursting with colour, Bard wondered if it was because they were very slightly removed from the house, spreading out into the acres behind it, whereas the trees and bushes surrounding the house also took on the strange darkness that the ivy did.

But even the lush green of the gardens was not impervious to the dour English weather they were facing. Deep in the country the ground was saturated with water from all the rainfall and an unnerving fog seemed to surround the house, only growing worse as the sky blackened further and eventually began to pour down.

Bard learnt from one of the maids that the gardens were flourishing because of the amount of gardeners the master of the house had hired. It would seem that the garden is his favourite place so he makes certain it is maintained, although apparently it never flourishes more than it does when he is tending to it himself, apparently it is almost as if he and the plants understand each other and they spring up taller and greener when he is present.

Other than his fondness for his gardens, Bard did not learn anything else about his mysterious new employer, other than that he seemed to be generally well thought of by his staff, although no one offered him an actual approximation or description of him or his personality. It was very bizarre.

The other thing it took him less than a day to notice, was the insular nature of the household. None of them seemed at all concerned with the goings on beyond their walls, they did not care for town gossip and only kept up with local news for practicality sake. Nor did they go into town unless it was necessary, they all seemed genuinely content to exist behind the walls of Mirkwood hall, only leaving when it concerned them. They somehow managed to keep almost completely to themselves while still being perfectly friendly. Bard wondered if they were friendly to him because he was technically one of them, or at least, he would be, he was curious to see how they interacted with outsiders.

On his second day he was introduced to Legolas, Tauriel made sure he got to the drawing room on time so that she was there to give the introductions. She gave a quick knock and pushed open the opulent doors to the drawing room, striding in with Bard close behind.

“Tauriel!” Came an excited little voice with an accent that was some mix of French and English, he should probably have asked earlier how long Legolas had been in the country, but Bard supposed he could speak passable French so it mattered little.

The little boy – Legolas – ran up to Tauriel and wrapped his arms around her waist, giving her as big a hug as a seven year old was able, Tauriel just smiled at him.

He was an incredibly pretty little boy, and Bard knew for a fact that his girls would be sensationally jealous of all that long blonde hair sweeping past his shoulders with sweet little braids holding it behind his ears, Bard wondered who had done them, he doubted a seven year old would have the skill.

He had big blue eyes that twinkled with mischief, pale skin and a slight figure, he really was a little thing, if it weren’t for all his clear energy Bard might be worried that they weren’t feeding the poor boy.

“Hello Legolas.” Tauriel greeted fondly, petting his head and pretending she could hear whatever he was saying that was muffled by the way he was speaking directly into her clothes. “I have a new friend for you.”

“Really?” Legolas asked curiously, turning his head to the side to peer cautiously at Bard.

“Well, he’s called Bard and he’s your new teacher really, but he’s very nice and I’m sure he will be your friend.” Tauriel admitted, Legolas was eyeing him suspiciously, obviously unconvinced. “But would you like to know the best part?” Tauriel continued before Bard could speak, whispering to Legolas conspiratorially.

“What?” He asked, tilting his chin up at Tauriel but still not letting her out of the hug, Bard got the feeling he was a bit of a lonely child.

“Bard has three children of his own, and I am sure he’d let you meet them if you’re good.” She told him, and Legolas’ face it up immediately, confirming to Bard that he was indeed a pretty isolated child, suddenly he wondered if him having children had been a plus for Tauriel when considering him rather than a negative.

“Really!?” Legolas exclaimed happily, addressing Bard now.

“Yes, two girls and a boy, I’m sure they’d love to meet you. As long as you do your work that is…” Bard trailed off, getting a grin from Tauriel as Legolas immediately released her and scurried over to the table, clambering up onto a chair and peering over its tall back to Bard.

“I’m ready, I’m ready! I’ll be good I promise, do all my work and try really hard.” He promised excitedly, practically vibrating in the chair.

“Well in that case, maybe you can show me how well you know your numbers.” Bard led in, passing over a sheet of paper where Legolas happily started scribbling down his numbers.

Tauriel slipped out unnoticed by Legolas as Bard asked him to try and do some simple sums, chattering away happily even while he used his fingers to add things.

By four Bard had learnt a lot about Legolas, that his mother was French but he had come to live with Mr Oropherion, who he called ‘ada’ which certainly seemed to mean dad or father to Legolas, whether they were directly stating it or not. He found that Legolas clearly looked up to and idolised his ada massively, and that his ada puts the braids in his hair when he is home, but when he isn’t Tauriel does and she is very good too – though not as good as his ada.

Bard discovered that Legolas’ favourite place was the gardens (whether that was of his own inclination or just because it was also his ada’s favourite place was relatively unclear) and that his favourite thing was painting but he also liked reading and he especially liked playing hide-and-seek but not many people would play with him very often.

He found that Legolas was very good at adding and even his times tables were fairly good for his age, but for some reason he just could not do it in reverse, he found subtracting very hard and simply could not divide, so there was a clear area to start on. He understood what he was reading well when asked about it although he had some trouble reading aloud to Bard with turning the words into the correct sounds.

He could play the piano rather well for a seven year old and he really was quite good at drawing too (although Bard thought it was far more important that he enjoy it at his age, which he did very much). They spent a little while drawing together, and when Bard presented Legolas with a little picture of him, braids and all, Legolas shrieked in delight and it was the first thing he showed Tauriel when she came to take them to lunch (both he and Legolas having completely forgotten).

“Mr Bard, have I been good enough to meet your children?” Legolas asked nervously as the clock hit four and Bard started to tidy up.

“Hmmmm.” Bard teased, and Legolas scrunched up his face in trepidation while waiting for the answer. “Of course you have.” He laughed, laughing harder still as Legolas cheered and hugged him, an affectionate child it would seem.

“Com’ on Bard, com’ on.” He nagged, eagerly tugging on Bard’s hand towards the door.

When he passed Tauriel in the corridor she pointed towards the garden, tipping him off to his children’s current whereabouts. They were indeed outside, a smiling gardener keeping an eye on them as they climbed tree and chased each other, keeping carefully away from the flower beds. It made his heart squeeze seeing his kids so happy and carefree, and squeeze a little more when Legolas, despite his excitement, hid slightly behind Bard’s leg, a little shy to be meeting new children, who he was probably hoping desperately to be friends with.

“Kids!” Bard called and with shouts of ‘da!’ they came running over, crashing to a happy, panting halt instead so just barrelling into him when the noticed the little face peeking out round his leg.

“Hello.” Sigrid smiled at Legolas, who didn’t seem to know if he wanted to hold on to Bard tighter or come out from behind him.

“Hi.” Legolas squeaked making Bard chuckle.

“Guys, this is Legolas the little boy I’m here to teach. Legolas, this is Tilda, Bain and Sigrid.” Bard introduced and they all gave they own awkward little greetings that children did when forced into meetings with other children they didn’t know.

“You know guys.” Bard said, crouching down and getting on their level, popping Legolas next to him instead of behind. “I’m sure Legolas here can tell you where all the best hiding places out here are, he loves hide-and-seek.”   

And apparently that was enough, because Tilda grabbed his hand and started running off into the heart of the gardens, chattering animatedly about where she had found and what better places Legolas knew, Bain and Sigrid running after them beaming.

Bard spent the next hour and a half supervising many games of hide-and-seek until he was inevitably made to join in properly (not that he minded).

Over the next few days they slipped into a routine, Bard got up with his kids, made sure they got breakfast and that they were going to behave before they skipped off either together or with various members of the household staff that they were getting to know. At lunchtime, they all ate in the servant’s dining room, even though Legolas and him could have eaten in the drawing room, Legolas wouldn’t miss an opportunity to be around people. And when Legolas’ lessons were done, they went to find his kids and they would play for the rest of the afternoon before doing calmer things like drawing and reading in the evening when it was time for them to start winding down.

Tauriel seemed absolutely taken with his children, even more so than the others. Despite all her work, she was happy for them to tag along, even insisting to Bard that they were actually quite helpful, always happy to lend a hand to her chores, Bard was just glad that it didn’t look like they were going to be lonely here. In fact it looked like a few people might even stop being lonely by their presence here.

He and Tauriel were making their way down one of the many corridors one evening towards their various chambers after reading together for a while, he had found he enjoyed her company immensely, even if they were only reading separate books.

They were taking a turn down past the kitchens when Bard was started to hear a strange, eerie peal of loud laughter echoing around the walls. He couldn’t have said what direction it came from, all he knew was that it sent a shiver down his spine and made his blood run cold.

Before Bard could even turn to Tauriel and form a question she was veering off into the kitchens.

“Feren!” She called, and a young man came out from another room, he looked more dour and put upon than the others. “Make sure you _make less noise_ and remember your responsibilities.” Tauriel instructed cryptically, at least, cryptically to Bard.

“Yes Tauriel, sorry, I shall see to them now.” Feren apologised, rushing off out the kitchen, presumably to see to his duties.

“Wha-?” Bard started as Tauriel resumed their walk.

“Oh nothing.” She said nonchalantly, cutting him off. “He is a slightly unbalanced young man, he knows better than to make such noises but occasionally it would seem that he forgets himself. But he is a skilled tailor.” Tauriel explained, Bard wondered exactly what had caused such a deranged laugh from him, and how he managed to appear fine, if a little stressed, only moments later.

It was very strange, something about it just didn’t sit right with Bard.

When he tried to sleep that night he could have sworn he heard another strain of that haunting laughter. Maybe Feren was unwell? Maybe it was just his memory playing tricks on him in the darkened room, either way, he double checked that the door into their rooms was locked.

 

It was a Friday, a month or so after their initial arrival that Bard and Tilda were taking a long walk around the fields and areas surrounding the grounds of the house, getting as far as to reach the muddy roads that lead into the town, although it was already getting later in the afternoon so he doubted they would actually reach town, he already knew he would be carrying Tilda back on his shoulders.

There was a heavy mist descending, and some ice on the ground so they opted to stick to the road so that they would definitely be able to find their way back, even if they were pretty familiar with their surroundings by this point, he would hate to get lost, especially with Tilda in tow. 

Tilda was skipping down the muddy road just a few paces in front of him singing quietly and sporadically as she hopped about, when Bard heard something in the mist ahead of him. It only took him a second to realise that it sounded like a horse approaching relatively quickly through the thick fog.

“Tilda!” Bard called, lunging ahead and sweeping her out of the way and to the side of the road just as the horse and rider came properly into view. The horse startled a little at their sudden appearance and movement through the mist, and it would have been fine, except one of the horses’ front hooves then hit a patch of ice and it bucked backwards in surprise, throwing its rider to the floor shouting.

Immediately Bard set Tilda down and hurried to help the fallen rider. He was muttering to himself, tucked up in a hooded cloak and thick looking coats, Bard reached him at the same time as a dog – a strong, brown Newfoundland, the rider’s dog if the petting was anything to go by.

“Are you okay?” Bard asked hastily as he got to his side, crouching down next to him.

“I would be fine if you hadn’t startled my horse.” Came an annoyed voice from under the hoods that were obscuring Bard’s view of the man.

But other than annoyed, that voice was also deep and rich like velvet. It awoke the part of him that would be condemned in society, even killed, he had spent his entire teenage and adult life tamping it down and convincing himself that because he loved his wife and therefore he must have left those impure thoughts behind him, he couldn’t possibly like both, even though he knew what the truth was.

Bard put the unwelcome thoughts immediately out of mind, now was not the time to reflect on them, and he finally really registered the man’s words.

“Well, I am sure that the ice your horse slipped on hardly helped either.” Bard pointed out, a little irritated that he was being blamed despite having gotten out of the way as fast as possible given the visibility.

“Do you deny your involvement with my accident?” He asked, and his voice almost sounded amused, almost, Bard tried not to get distracted by how beautiful his porcelain skin was, even in the dull light or such a miserable day.

“No. I just dispute being considered the main cause. It is icy, and you probably should not have been riding so fast in this fog anyway. Especially down a road so little travelled by horses.” Bard pointed out, knowing he probably should not scold a man whose station was very likely to be higher than his own, he could get in trouble, but he had never been very good at holding his tongue, it had gotten him into many difficulties.

“Is that so? Well it is obviously often travelled by you to know it so well, maybe you should be the one being more careful as you are on foot not horse nor carriage.” The man argued back, tone still treading the line between amused and annoyed.

“On the contrary, you are the first soul I have ever bumped into on this road, and I travel this road often as I live at Mirkwood Hall.” Bard countered.

“Oh really.” The man replied, and he sounded distinctly interested now, Bard wondered what exactly had piqued that interest. He also suddenly seemed more interested in holding his hood down to obscure his face than he had before, only his red lips and the smirk they wore particularly visible to Bard.

“Can you stand?” Bard inquired, wanting to know how bad his fall really was.

“I am sure that with your help I will manage.” The man replied, and Bard took his arm and helped him to his feet, feeling lithe muscle beneath the fabric of his clothes and noting how tall and commanding a figure the man cut.

“I’m Bard Bowman.” Bard introduced himself. “That’s my daughter Tilda that you almost ran over.” He added sarcastically while reaching out a hand to Tilda who approached cautiously.

“Well in that case I am very sorry Miss Tilda.” The man apologised half sincerely and much to Bard’s surprise.

“I’m sorry for scaring your horse.” She returned only a little shyly.

“Yes well, I am assured the ice helped as well.” He conceded, Bard had a feeling Tilda could see under his hood and to his face, suddenly he wished to be her height, he could not stoop to look without looking foolish and rude.

He could see a wince under his hood as the man finally put weight back down onto his foot, but still he gestured for Bard to help him remount his horse.

“Do I not get to know your name?” Bard asked a little indignantly.

“Soon I am sure. Although not right now.” The man replied cryptically but it sent a thrill through Bard at the thought of a next time, a thrill which he tried to beat down straight away.

And with a smirk, the man rode off, but despite his hood and attempts to pull it lower down, Bard caught a glimpse of ice blue eyes and dark eyebrows before the horse rode off, the dog at its heels.

Bard did his best not to feel disappointed at his departure.

After the incident, Bard and Tilda decided to head back, it was getting late anyway and they didn’t fancy bumping into any more horses in this fog. Bard sat his little girl on his shoulders and they made it back much faster than they had gone, but because of the thick cloud it was already practically dark by the time they returned.

It didn’t take long for Bard to noticed the slightly changed atmosphere, everyone rushing around and yet seeming to try and maintain slightly more decorum and purpose than was typical. He and Tilda headed towards the servants dining room where he found the rest of his children – although not Legolas – and set Tilda down with them.

He found Tauriel gathering up some tea in the kitchen and she predicted his question before he even asked it.

“Mr Oropherion has returned to the Hall, without giving much notice, well, without giving any notice.”

The Newfoundland dog trundled into the room at the exact same time Tauriel mentioned that Mr Oropherion had sprained his ankle on the road.

Bard didn’t know if he was excited or worried, and he didn’t know if either of those feelings were caused by his involvement in his fall and somewhat out of turn conversation, or for another reason entirely.

 

It was only one day after his arrival back into the Hall, that Bard was summoned to have tea with Mr Oropherion in his parlour. Bard found his best clothes – which really wasn’t saying much – and tried to look as presentable as possible, although he still couldn’t bring himself to shave his small and styled beard, he never felt he looked himself with it anyway.

He ran a comb through his hair and managed to make it look worse if anything, and he convinced himself that he did all this simply because he had been instructed to and wanted to look his best for his new employer, and not for any other reasons.

Bard knocked a little anxiously on the doors to the parlour, and it was that rich, liquid gold voice that bid him entry.

When Bard entered the room, the first thing he noticed was everything that the hood had managed to obscure from him the day before, and he decided that all hoods should be banned.

Mr Oropherion had a cascade of impossibly coloured silvery blonde hair falling about his shoulders and down his back, framing a face of alabaster skin with red lips, a strong jaw and sharp cheekbones. His eyebrows were thick and dark, setting of his pale skin and those piercing blue eyes that he had caught a glimpse of the day before.

Something about him seemed delicate while something else was strong and unbreakable, he was like a diamond, though Bard thought he would make a diamond look dull in comparison.

His long limbs were folded elegantly into a grand armchair and the way he sat made it look more like a throne, goblet of wine held nonchalantly in one hand, and the other resting on the arm of his chair. The way he was looking at Bard reminded him of a wolf, but that was another image he juxtaposed within himself by the way Legolas was sat on his knee, talking excitedly and as though he couldn’t feel safer. Bard supposed that wolves were loyal creatures.

They were caught like that for several moments, drinking each other in, Mr Oropherion was smirking and Bard was staring. He almost looked as if he didn’t belong in this world, like such a beauty had no place in this dank and miserable earth.

“Bard! Ada I was telling you about Bard he’s my teacher the one I really like and has Tilda and Bain and Sigrid and they are my friends.”  Legolas exclaimed, his excitement at his ada being home completely apparent, and Mr Oropherion looked at Legolas with a loving smile before turning his devastating gaze back on Bard and indicating to the chair just opposite his own.

“Mr Oropherion, I am so sorry, I– ” Bard started, although he was unsure what he planned to say.

“You will call me Thranduil. And please, do not start hedging your words now, I rather enjoyed our exchange yesterday. I would hate for you to become boring.” Mr Oropherion – Thranduil – replied, and he as clearly being serious, if a little teasing at the same time.

He felt so much like the man on the road and so little like his employer, that Bard felt himself find his courage.

“How is your ankle?” He asked, knowing his was wearing a cheeky smile.

“Terrible. I am thinking of punishing the culprit.”

“I shall go and fetch the patch of ice immediately.” Bard snarked back, knowing this had been the right thing to do as a few notes of musical laughter left Thranduil’s lips as he chuckled, which was not something he did often if Legolas’ awed expression was anything to go by.

“See ada! I _told you_ Bard was the best.” Legolas yelled in triumph.

“Indeed you did my little leaf, and it does seem that you may have been right.” Thranduil responded to his son kindly, and Bard realised as Legolas turned his head slightly, that his braids were newly done and neater than usual.

“And you have to meet Tilda and Bain and Sigrid as well because they’re the best too.” Legolas added and Thranduil just smiled at him, if there was one thing Bard could pin down about Thranduil (other than the many things he did wanted to pin down) it was that he clearly loved his son completely, no matter what questions of legitimacy there might be.

“I am sure they are. But for now, I think it is your bed time.” Thranduil told him, making Legolas pout, but with a stern look from his ada he stopped, sighing resignedly, hopping down from his knee, and plodding out the room, laughing happily as the dog followed him, nudging at his back as they walked.

“He is very fond of you.” Thranduil noted with a raised eyebrow.

“Aye, but not nearly as much as he is of you.” Bard answered honestly, there was no one Legolas loved more than his ada, not Bard, not Tauriel, not the children.

“Are you sure? I have had to endure a few hours of him speaking of nothing but you.” Thranduil mock-whined (at least Bard was fairly sure it was in jest).

“I’m sure it was terrible for you. I on the other hand have undergone an entire month of him waxing poetic about you.” Bard countered.

“A highly enjoyable experience I have no doubt.” Thranduil smirked back, lounging back in his armchair while looking somehow both elegant and dangerous.

“Well, I’m just curious about whether the real thing matches up to his praise.” Bard said, and that got another smirk out of Thranduil.

“So far?” He asked, tone almost undecipherable.

“Underwhelmed.” Bard replied, sighing as if he really was let down, he had no doubt Thranduil would see through it, and he did, smirking somewhere between playful and dangerous, Bard felt like it was a good place to be, a place he liked to inspire.

“Oh really. And why is that?” Thranduil inquired, brow raised in question, but the slight curve of his lips was like he knew the game they were playing– Bard wished he would tell him, he was almost certainly out of his depth, (Bard didn’t care).

“Can’t even ride a horse.” Bard shot back, making Thranduil lips quirk.

“I on the other hand am mildly impressed. I have been shown a lot of your drawings, and I must admit, I am enchanted by your simple schoolboy style, you shall have to draw me.” Thranduil said, and Bard had no idea if he had just been complimented or insulted.

“I couldn’t possibly do you justice.” Bard responded easily, mainly because it was completely true, Thranduil laughed, taking it as evasion rather than a genuine appraisal of his beauty.

“Tell me. Do you think me a handsome man?” He asked, almost like he was joking, he must know, he owned mirrors. Maybe that was why he was joking, he knew it to be true, or maybe it was because that was not a question commonly addressed to another man. Either way Bard was most definitely not joking with his response.

“No. I think you a beautiful one.”

Thranduil’s smirk dropped and his look turned considering, like Bard was a puzzle he had not had the pleasure of unravelling yet, and like he was enjoying every moment of it.

There was also a note of something else in his look, that wolfishness that probably shouldn’t be there but was most definitely being returned by Bard.

He was going to get into trouble, he knew it, he should leave.

He already knew that he wouldn’t.

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

After that first meeting, things only got worse, well, or better depending on how Bard chose to look at it.

And that was thing, because all the time he sat across from Thranduil in the drawing room or gardens or library or dining room or wherever it was that they were, Bard couldn’t help but respond. He couldn’t help the way he snarked back at Thranduil even though he shouldn’t, the way he did it just to see if he could get a smirk, or better yet, a full laugh. He did it because he loved being on the receiving end of that wolfish gaze.

It was when he wasn’t with Thranduil that Bard knew it was wrong, that everything reminded him that he shouldn’t, that he would be thrown in prison – if he was lucky. Who’s to say Thranduil’s thoughts were anything like his own, he would probably have him thrown to the dogs if he knew what went around Bard’s mind.

But there were those _looks_. That hungry stare of his. And he was never hostile towards Bard’s appreciative eye either, maybe he was just vain. Maybe he really didn’t mind. But that was a very dangerous idea to entertain, so Bard pushed it aside.

But when Bard wasn’t with Thranduil, when he didn’t have the immediate distraction of that enchanting man, his thoughts took a different path. He would catch himself referring to Thranduil by his given name and the other servants would look at him strangely. When he wasn’t around Thranduil the reality of everything had a chance to press back in around him. Legolas had cottoned on to _something_ , of course he was only a child, but he ran around saying how much his ada and Bard liked each other and while Thranduil was not a cruel man, he hardly had a reputation for being quite so friendly with his staff, let alone someone so new to his household.

It was a vicious circle though, because whenever Bard would resolve to behave more reservedly – behave as he should – he would then completely lose his resolve the next time he and Thranduil were in a room together, which was also happening with increasing frequency.

Never more than a few days passed between their meetings, Thranduil would request his presence in the evening, or he would drop in on Legolas’ lessons, much to the boy’s delight (and Bard’s), or he would bump into him (not so) accidentally in the gardens, or even Thranduil occasionally asked Bard and his children to take supper with him in the main dining room.

Thranduil had many unlikable traits and sometimes Bard tried to focus on them, on his arrogance and narcissism and superiority complex, but even that was practically impossible for Bard. Every time he managed to focus on his arrogance, he would see him braiding Legolas’ hair and playing with him and listening to him chatter and it was just so clear that the most important thing to him in the whole world was that little boy.

Bard would try to be put off by his narcissism but then he would catch him telling Tilda and Sigrid how pretty they look today before he would whisper that he thinks he saw Bain hiding in the drawing room and they would scamper off happily. And it was absolutely no use trying to dislike him for his superiority complex because he actively encouraged Bard to treat him like an equal, he loved it when Bard didn’t hold his tongue and refused to be walked over (not that Bard was entirely sure he would mind being walked over at this point). And while Thranduil was not like this with all his household staff, Bard could tell he cared for all the inhabitants of Mirkwood, right down to the lowliest kitchen maid.

Other people around the house also claimed that he was ill tempered and quick to anger, his moods as volatile and changeable. And Bard had witnessed this, seen Thranduil playing with Legolas only to moments later harshly scold his servants for the smallest of transgressions. But again, he had never done this to Bard, nor his children (there were some things he would not forgive) on the contrary, around the children of the house Thranduil was remarkably patient and even playful, the only change in his mood was when he became strict, and any decent parent had to become strict occasionally. And to Bard he was always…well, Bard wasn’t really sure what to call it, but it was consistent, and never something bad or that made Bard want to slink away, quite the opposite unfortunately.

But Bard’ primary concern was and always would be his children, and right now he seemed to be missing one. During the day, when Bard was teaching Legolas, his kids had slipped into a kind of routine of their own, although they were free to deviate from it of course. In general, Tilda could be found in the kitchens, covered in flour and helping them with whatever they were cooking (and apparently she was actually fairly useful), Bain would be with the gardeners pushing wheelbarrows and helping them to dig and just generally getting muddy, and Sigrid would follow Tauriel, helping her with her general chores.

But today Bain seemed to have slipped off the map, he wasn’t with the gardeners and no one had the slightest clue where he had gotten to. So Bard had ended up on a hunt for his missing son, which would be a lot easier if Thranduil had actually restricted the places the children were allowed to go, as it was he seemed perfectly happy to have them roaming around. Bard couldn’t blame him really, they made the dark eerie place a little brighter, nothing lifted the perverse feeling of wrong around the strange house quite as much as the sound of children playing.

Bard checked the drawing room and made sure the girls were telling the truth when they said that they hadn’t been playing hide-and-seek (he wouldn’t put it past them to just leave their brother hiding somewhere). So then there was only one thing for it, and Bard started combing through the Hall’s rooms one by one in order to locate his son.

Which would have been a much fast job if the Hall wasn’t so vast, it was taking a while. Bard paused at the bottom of the stairs leading to the upper left wing, surely Bain wouldn’t have gone up there, he knew that it was forbidden, that it was the sole place that was, and it wouldn’t be like him. Still something in Bard told him to go looking, although it was likely his own curiosity rather than actually believing that his son might be up there.

He ignored the urge to go up there, and resolved to ask Tauriel if he could go looking for Bain up there if he still hadn’t found him when he had finished checking everywhere else.

Bard was beginning to think that Bain really had disappeared somewhere he wasn’t supposed to before he pushed open the door to the large library and finally found him, and Thranduil with him.

As he entered, Thranduil’s blue eyes immediately flickered over to him, getting that little gleam in them that they did so often, his expression hadn’t changed at all, but his eyes were giving away to him that he was happy – or something – that Bard had appeared. And it certainly wasn’t because he wanted to get rid of Bain, indeed as he looked back to him, Bard could see that look of genuine interest that Thranduil got whenever one of the children was talking, like he found the things children came out with both fascinating and endearing.

Bain seemed to be chattering away about a book, and Bard would wager that it was his favourite one if the way his arms were flailing around was any indication. Bard also knew that for him to get so animated about it, Thranduil must’ve been happily contributing to the discussion, Bard had remembered making a point of reading it himself just because he didn’t like the way Bain had thought Bard wouldn’t care for the story he loved so much, so Bard had made sure he was able to talk about them with him and reassure him that he very much was interested in the things that interested Bain.

Bard wondered if Thranduil had read them to Legolas already, or if he was just surprisingly fond of them. Then again, Bard thought there was a good chance he had read every single book in his library, in fact he would bet money on it, he rarely found him without a book somewhere on his person. Thranduil did love his forests after all. 

“And then, I thought tha– oh, hi da.” Bain finished, following Thranduil’s eyes as they flicked to Bard a second time.

“I was looking for you, had no idea where you’d gotten to.” Bard smiled, honestly relived now that he had found his son, not that he had been particularly worried, but still, a side effect of being their sole parent for so long he suspected.

“Sorry da, I found some books in here that I hadn’t read yet.” Bain replied. “Thranduil said I could borrow them.”

“Thank you.” Bard smiled, turning to Thranduil, he’d never been able to buy Bain and Sigrid all the books he could just sense that they were itching to read, temporarily smuggling them out of the school’s small library where possible instead.

“Of course. You are all welcome to use the library as you wish.” Thranduil waved off Bard’s thanks.

“Bain I think Legolas was saying something about buried treasure and needing some help finding it. If you wanted to join him I think he’s trying to convince Tauriel to come with him at the moment.” Bard informed him, remembering the blonde hair whipping around after Tauriel, tugging on her dress and asking Bard to ask Bain if he found him, which he had, and Bain’s eyes lit up and he went scampering off at the promise of buried treasure.

“Sorry, I feel I just stole your friend away.” Bard laughed awkwardly, and really he had interrupted and abruptly ended what had looked like an interesting conversation.

“Not to worry. Besides, I may have had ulterior motives for holding the conversation, not that I didn’t enjoy it of course, Bain is wonderfully passionate.” Thranduil’s silky voice seemed to fill the room and engulf Bard, even though he was not even speaking loudly.

“Oh? What ulterior motive would that have been?” Bard inquired, trying to resist the urge to bite his lip.

“Well, I predicted that if I held one of your children hostage for long enough, you were bound to show up eventually.” Thranduil enlightened him, that dangerous smirk pulling at his lips.

“You could just summon me.” Bard pointed out, cheeky grin of his own firmly in place, but it turned to ever so slight trepidation as Thranduil moved and slowly shut the door to the library. Bard felt foolish, he knew Thranduil preferred to have the doors closed when he was in a room, and yet the slow way he shut them made it seem intimate, almost sensual.

“I could, but where is the fun in that?” Thranduil replied.

He looked like he was gliding, his movements were so graceful as he moved across the room and elegantly sat down in his large armchair, slinging one long leg over the other, accentuating their impossible length. Some days Bard felt as though they went on for ever, some days he felt like he would like to map them with his lips, other days he just tried not to look, as if someone could read his thoughts and would sling him out on to the street before he could even try to explain himself, although what he would say he had no idea.

Bard took his usual chair opposite him as Thranduil indicated to it with a slight tilt of his head, and Bard could swear the chair had been moved closer, and they had only been a few metres away from each other in the first place.

“Was there a reason you needed to see me?” Bard asked, feeling exposed as Thranduil studied him in the silence, the fire next to them throwing off considerable heat, Bard almost lost himself watching the patterns dance across the smooth skin of Thranduil’s face.

“I do not need to see you, I simply wanted to. Is that not enough?” Thranduil responded, and Bard hoped that his slight blush was obscured by the firelight.

“Then whatever should we talk about?” Bard continued, the silence had a way of making him nervous, like he couldn’t hide himself behind words, and that worried him.

Thranduil clearly was quite happy to just sit and watch Bard, it made him smirk like he knew something Bard didn’t before finally taking pity on Bard and speaking.

“How is Legolas doing?” He asked, and Bard felt relieved at the safe topic, and at how Thranduil clearly cared, there were infinite things in the word he could talk about, but he chose Legolas.

“He’s doing very well. We’re working on his subtracting and dividing still but he should be able to move on to trickier problems soon. His reading aloud is getting better every day.” Bard smiled, there were a million other things he could tell him about Legolas’ education, but he was fairly sure that Thranduil already knew, he had no doubt Legolas told him all about his day every day.

“I am glad. And how are your children? They like it here?” Thranduil continued, lounging back in his chair in a way that should make him look bored, yet somehow, he didn’t, maybe Bard had just come to recognise it as one of his mannerisms.  

“They love it.” Bard smiled, and Thranduil responded with an equally genuine one of his own. “They’ve never had this much space or freedom before, I thank you for it, it means more than you could know.”

“And do you like it here?” Thranduil continued his enquiry, voice gone slightly lower in the quiet of the room.

“I think you know the answer to that.” Bard replied, he should regret it, maybe Thranduil didn’t know, maybe all these wrong thoughts were solely in his own head.

But Thranduil only smirked, eyes dropping down Bard before flicking back up, Bard felt like he had just been devoured, he wondered if that was what Thranduil had intended.

“I am very pleased to hear that.” And god his voice was almost like a purr in the darkened room surrounded by the warmth of the fire it was positively the most inviting thing Bard had ever heard. And honestly, Bard wasn’t even entirely sure what they were talking about at this point.

Bard registered that Thranduil had essentially told him that he did not want him to leave, but maybe he just thought Bard was a good teacher, was glad Legolas had children his own age to play with and spend time with when Thranduil was away.

Or maybe it was something else.

Really Bard knew that it was that something else, but he couldn’t admit it, not yet.

Bard cleared his throat, the tension in the room was palpable, and he wasn’t even completely sure why, it only served to highlight that they may have been having a rather different conversation to what it seemed on the surface.

“I should go, they’ll probably be looking for me for supper.” Bard explained, at the same moment that Tauriel knocked on the door and poked her head in.

“Mr Oropherion.” She smiled with a cursory bow that was rather unnecessary if Thranduil’s eye roll was anything to go by. “I was just coming to collect Bard for supper, I thought he may have forgot.”

Bard stood, ready to take his leave, but Thranduil rose at the same time and they were almost touching in the small space between their chairs, fabric of their clothes brushing ever so slightly.

“Bard will take his supper with me. I trust you can keep an eye on the children for a few more hours.” Thranduil dismissed.

“Of course sir.” Tauriel replied politely, giving them a considering look before she departed.

The hand Thranduil had placed on the small of his back while he spoke slipped away. Bard felt the ghost of the touch like a brand for the rest of the evening.

 

The next time Bard found Thranduil unexpectedly was something he was unlikely to forget. He had spent most evenings this week with him, sometimes the children joined them, sometimes Thranduil seemed to want a more intimate setting which always left Bard vibrating from the tension, the thing that they danced around but neither actually acknowledged. Or Maybe Thranduil just wanted a child free environment, and Bard was making it all up because of the thoughts and feelings that he knew he should be repulsed by, but just, _wasn’t_.

It was difficult to be when Thranduil looked at him the way he did.

Like he was a goblet of wine and Thranduil hadn’t had a sip in years.

But this time Bard stumbled across Thranduil, and it was a rather different situation. Thranduil was sat in his drawing room, book discarded next to him, Legolas hovering next to him anxiously and getting a little upset himself as Thranduil rocked a sniffling Tilda in his arms.

Bard almost ran straight into the room to comfort his daughter, but he was enchanted by the image in front of him, and frankly, it looked as though she was already being comforted as much as she needed.

Bard leant against the wall by the slightly ajar door and watched as Thranduil rocked and murmured to his youngest, he could see he little fists balled into his expensive clothes but Thranduil didn’t seem to care. He didn’t catch what he was saying, but it didn’t matter, he could hear Tilda’s sniffles slowing and dying down.

His breath caught in his throat as he heard Thranduil begin to sing quietly to his daughter, his voice was something Bard was never going to fully believe, how it could belong so completely in the bedroom one moment, but then in another situation he was using it perfectly to soothe upset children, and then how it could also be cold and commanding. But it was always beautiful, rich and smooth, like velvet.

As Tilda calmed down, Thranduil shifted her slightly and made room for Legolas to tuck into his other side, stressed by how upset his friend had been, needing some comfort himself. He was an incredibly empathetic child, he caught onto peoples moods and was very effected by them.

Bard’s heart melted as he saw Thranduil holding the children, running his hands comfortingly up and down their little arms, when Bard was sure the children were asleep he quietly slipped into the room, Thranduil clocking him and smiling at him immediately.

“She okay?” Bard asked, stroking his daughter’s hair and running a hand over Legolas’ as well before forcing down the ridiculous urge to kiss Thranduil’s soft mouth.

“She is fine, she tripped and skinned her knee, which it would seem made her a little sensitive, so when the servant who helped her up decided to ‘kiss it better just like mother used to’ she burst into tears.” Thranduil explained, and his voice already sounded scolding towards whichever servant he was referring to. “Honestly it was a highly insensitive thing to say to a child who never knew her mother. So I picked her up and brought her in here for some quiet, unfortunately it seemed to get worse before it got better.”

“Thank you.” Bard told him sincerely, it didn’t nearly cover the spreading warmth in his heart but he could hardly tell him about that. So an utterly insufficient ‘thank you’ was all he could come up with. “I should put her to bed.” Bard said, and Thranduil nodded, gently lifting his arm to allow Bard to carefully lift her up.

A lump formed in Bard’s throat as Thranduil took his hand so that Bard could help him out of the chair without waking Legolas. He didn’t let it drop until he was taking a step away and it slid out of Bard’s palm even though he wanted nothing more than to hold onto it forever.

Bard forced himself to swallow and followed Thranduil out of the room, before they parted ways to go and put their respective child into bed.

“Bard.” Thranduil said gently as they went to go in different directions, effectively halting Bard. “I should tell you. I have to go away for a little while, it cannot be helped.” Bard nodded in understanding, he did not know why Thranduil felt obliged to tell him, but he knew in that moment that he desperately did not want him to go.

Bard’s heart was slipping into dangerous territory. He didn’t know how to stop it.

 

Thranduil left less than a week later, all of the children got hugs the evening before he was to leave, and Legolas refused to let got for hours, shouting about not wanting his ada to go, and Bard had to agree with him. But Thranduil just carried him around and got on with his evening with Legolas attached to his chest, face buried in his shoulder occasionally yelling protests.

When he finally exhausted himself Thranduil set him to bed before returning to Bard in the library.

“That was much better than usual.” Thranduil smiled, taking his usual seat.

“Really?” Bard asked, a little surprised, Legolas had been clearly very distressed.

“He usually screams the house down, little fists flying around. Today he just shouted and cried, I’d say that was an improvement. I feel I have you and your children to thank for that. I never liked leaving him, but at least this time he won’t be practically all alone.”

“I know he loves you very much, but surely it shouldn’t be that traumatic?” Bard half asked, curious as to why Legolas found it so horrible, shouldn’t he be used to it by now? And indeed why Thranduil tolerated it.

“Indeed not. But his mother left him with a friend for a week and then she never came back.” Thranduil stated simply before sighing. “I allow him to behave angrily because it is easier than him drowning in worry. He should grow out of it eventually, but he is only a child still.”

“I see.” Bard replied, heart full of sympathy for Legolas, he would make sure to keep him distracted for the next few days. There was a pause before Thranduil spoke again.

“Bard–” Thranduil started before stopping abruptly, like he wasn’t entirely sure what to say, which was odd for him, usually he was the most self-assured person in the room. “I, I really wouldn’t go unless I had to. I would stay, for Legolas, for– well, I would just stay.”

“I understand.” Bard smiled, knowing how much Thranduil loved Legolas.

“I really hope you do.”

Bard got the feeling they were not talking about his departure.

 

The weeks without Thranduil rolled by and suddenly Mirkwood Hall seemed unthinkably dull, not just in activity, it also just felt a little less bright, like it wilted without him. But after a little while they found their routine again.

Occasionally, Bard would find himself in the library, reading or just thinking, sat in the chair that had somehow become his, opposite the now empty chair of Thranduil’s beside the continually burning hearth. It was funny, without the enchanting man lounging in it, the armchair looked wholly unremarkable, even small, whereas with him in it, it seemed like the most opulent throne in all the world.

Other times Bard would sit in Thranduil’s favourite part of the gardens, where he would often go if he did not wish to be indoors, Thranduil really did know all the best spots. Bard also enjoyed retracing the walks they had taken, Thranduil had known how to pass through all of the most beautiful parts of the garden without ever backtracking, immersing themselves so deeply in the forest it was almost as though the Hall did not exist.

Bard wondered how long it would be before he returned, he had not given Bard an estimate, not having any idea how long his business was going to take.

Bard had been sitting in the library, lost in thought one evening, sat across from Thranduil’s empty chair when Sigrid had wandered in and started looking for a book. When she found it she paused before leaving.

“You miss him don’t you?” She asked, but it wasn’t really a question.

“Yes, he has become a good friend to me. Don’t you miss him too?” Bard replied, wondering where this had come from.

“Of course I do, but I do not think I miss him in the same way you do da.” She said kindly, reminding him so much of her mother, she had always been a perceptive child.

“I – we, I mean– ” Bard tried to find the words, she was smiling at him like she knew something and Bard suspected that she probably did, she would not condemn him for it at least, her heart was far too kind for that.

“It’s okay da. I have a feeling he misses you like that too.” She smiled, kissing him on the cheek before leaving.

Of course she couldn’t possibly know what Thranduil felt, but her words meant more to him than he could articulate. And another person saying it, however vaguely, helped to validate Bard’s thoughts.

Bard’s feelings.

 

It was not unusual during the night for Bard to hear that strange laughter echoing around the house, it made it hard to sleep.

But then there was that night, it was thundering outside, yet he could still hear the feet on the creaking wooden floor easily, it was usual but not completely out of the ordinary for someone to walk past his door at night, but something was telling him that this wasn’t normal.

He heard the footsteps grow as they approached his door, but he did not hear them leave, in fact they creaked outside his door. Bard felt his heart begin to race as the groaning floor told him someone was just outside his door and it skipped a beat as there was a thud like a fist against his door before hushed voices, scraping and scratching and muffled shouts, like someone was being dragged away.

Bard scrambled out of bed and threw open his door, but he could see no one in the corridor, having gotten out of sight already, and he was reluctant to follow and leave his children after such an incident. He went back inside, but he did not sleep.

The next day he asked Tauriel what had happened, explaining what he had heard.

“Uh, it was, um, probably just Feren. He sleepwalks sometimes, can be a little disruptive, don’t worry about it, he’s harmless.” She explained away, waving off Bard’s concerns.

Bard wondered how good a tailor Feren must be to get away with such troublesome antics.

 

It was only a month after Thranduil’s departure that Bard woke to Tauriel hurrying around the house, busier than usual, he felt his heart lift before he had even asked her what was happening.

“Mr Oropherion is coming home, barely any warning of course, as usual. Honestly after such a long stay I hardly expected him to come back so soon, he is probably bringing a load of work with him I can’t imagine he’s managed to get it all done.” Tauriel told him, racing around readying rooms that didn’t see use while he was away.

Bard wondered why Thranduil had decided to come home so soon.

He thought he knew, but he didn’t dare hope on it.

Legolas was of course vibrating out of his very skin with excitement, Bard’s children also looking like they couldn’t wait to see Thranduil again as they bounced up and down while they waited by the entrance for him.

Apparently, Thranduil usually arrived in the evenings and tired from a long trip went straight to bed, but today he was coming home almost in the middle of the day, so Bard had gathered up the children and had them waiting in the hallway, honestly he didn’t know how he was supposed to control Legolas from coming out to see him anyway, he was having to hold him back from running up the road as it was.

“Ada!” Legolas shouted, practically jumping onto Thranduil as he came through the door, but Thranduil caught him easily, clearly expecting such a greeting before couching down still holding Legolas and inviting the rest of the children into a tight embrace, which they all rushed into happily, but not without sending a smile directly to Bard as well, it made something in his stomach flutter.

Bard had been enlightened by Bain about just how much time they had spent with Thranduil. He had told him that Thranduil had often come and found them during the day while Bard taught Legolas and had actually ended up spending a significant amount of time with each of them. And the sight of him hugging all four children was sending an unstoppable spreading wave of warmth through his chest.

When the children finally decided they had had their fill and released him, Thranduil started talking about presents and they all attack hugged him again, much to the shock of the other members of the household staff that were gathered there, Bard just smiled.

Thranduil had an entire new piano and a brand new easel made for small children brought in for Legolas who actually screamed and jumped on him again, pressing ridiculous kisses to his cheek before scurrying off to inspect his new things.

For Tilda he had bought no less than three new dresses far finer than anything she (or Bard) had ever owned before, telling her how pretty she already was and to imagine how beautiful she would make such pretty dresses look. For Bain he had bought a lot of things that Bard didn’t recognise but he suspected had to do with gardening, Bain was absolutely overjoyed by them anyway. And for Sigrid Thranduil produced a set of wonderfully bound books that Bard had never heard of but that Sigrid was very thankful to receive.

As the kids all branched off to go and marvel at their new presents, Thranduil finally turned to Bard, he looked like he was about to say something, but instead he stayed quiet and lead the way to the library, their preferred place to sit together.

“What? No present for me?” Bard teased playfully as Thranduil shut the door behind them, Bard wondered if Thranduil had actually missed his companionship, Bard was pretty sure he had, and the feeling was definitely mutual.

“No I did not get you a present. I got you many.” Thranduil smirked as Bard’s face turned to surprise, he had been joking.

“Really? You needn’t have done that.” Bard responded a little shyly.

“Where you are concerned Bard, I do not need to do anything, but I _want_ to.” Thranduil explained and god Bard had missed that voice, he was utterly unprepared for it (not that he had ever mastered dealing with it in the first place).

Bard wondered if that was why Thranduil had chosen to come into the library, from the looks of the servants, it was surprising that he had brought gifts for Bard’s children, let alone Bard himself.

“Can I ask what?” Bard asked, biting his lip, unable to hold back his curiosity and Thranduil smirked, like this was the exact response he had wanted.

He had a case brought into the library that he opened and one by one pulled things from it, each time Bard was convinced it had to be the last, but the only thing that was apparently not for him was the case itself.

Clothes full of rich blues and deep reds, books that Bard had always want to read and may have mentioned maybe once during their acquaintance, beautiful looking quills, new shoes, a thick coat and even a box of expensive looking chocolates.

“Thranduil I cannot accept all of this.” Bard gasped, lost for words.

“I bought Legolas a piano.” Thranduil pointed out, like this justified his expenses on Bard.

“Yes but he is your son.” Bard pointed out. “I’m just, just me.” He finished lamely.

“If I can promise you one thing, it is that you are not ‘just’ anything, not to me.” Thranduil told him firmly.

Bard swallowed thickly, lost in those piercing blue eyes, he had missed those eyes, he knew his voice was nervous when he spoke, but still, it did not waver.

“You are not ‘just’ anything to me either.”

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

Thranduil had been home almost a month, Bard and he had been spending most of their evenings together, often accompanied by their respective children, until their bed times that was, then exchanging the drawing room for the quieter library that had at some point become ‘theirs’ in Bard’s mind. They had also been spending a little longer out in the gardens during the day than they used to, but Bard was there to do a job after all, so most was still spent tutoring Legolas.

A job that was going incredibly well, Legolas was a good, clever boy who worked hard and had managed to worm his way into Bard’s heart far faster than he could have anticipated, at this point he already felt like one of Bard’s own children.

Tauriel seemed to know something, or at least suspect something. But then, was there even anything to suspect? Bard wasn’t sure, he wanted there to be, even though he knew he shouldn’t. At least by this point he was fairly sure he wasn’t alone in his considerably dammed feelings, dammed by society anyway. But then, Thranduil made it pretty clear that he didn’t give a damn about society anyway. In fact he seemed to make it his personal goal to actively remove himself from said society as much as physically possible for a man of his rank.

Not that Tauriel said anything of course, not to him nor to Thranduil, but she gave them looks, knowing looks, or maybe he was paranoid. But her looks were never accusatory, not even disapproving, if anything she tended to look a little relieved. She had mentioned once that Bard mellowed Thranduil, especially his mood swings, which Bard supposed must be true, because he had never witnessed particularly bad mood swings from him. Never so bad that he couldn’t bring a smile to his face anyway.

The other servants knew that there was a different dynamic between Bard and Thranduil than there was with the rest of them, even if they almost certainly didn’t expect what Bard was pretty sure was bubbling just below the surface with them. But either they didn’t care or were too grateful for the better temperament that Bard apparently inspired in Thranduil to say anything.

All except one that was. Feren had grown noticeably cold towards Bard, as if he had decided to actively dislike him. Bard wasn’t particularly bothered, people had disliked him his whole life, and Feren didn’t exactly come off as ‘friendly’ towards anyone, always seeming haggard and over worked, giving him a sour disposition, honestly how much work could a tailor have? But to Bard he was worse, his scowl deepened, he looked at Bard as if he somehow made his life harder, which was ridiculous as Bard had never asked him for anything, the only thing he did that should effect the tailor at all was apparently improve Thranduil’s moods, and _surely_ that was a good thing?

Either way, Bard decided that a policy of civility was best, even if it wasn’t returned, not being able to hold his tongue had gotten him in enough trouble over the years, and he didn’t want any of it here, he never wanted to leave. And he knew how dangerous it was to think that way, to set down roots and make ties, it was good to be able to leave if you needed to Bard thought, and yet, he couldn’t imagine anything that would make him want to leave this place, leave Legolas and Tauriel and more friends than he had ever had before. Or to leave Thranduil. He couldn’t imagine anything could make him want to go.

However, having said that, he could do without that eerie, deranged laughter echoing around the walls during the night. He was seriously wondering if Tauriel had been right when she had attributed the troubling laughter to Feren, he just couldn’t imagine how he could produce such a noise when he seemed like such a normal – if unpleasant (at least to Bard) – individual.

He also could not fathom how Feren would be able to get away with such disruption late into the night, surely by now he would have been reprimanded and warned about making such an unnerving noise in the night. But when Bard had brought it up, not Feren for he doubted it was actually him, but the strange laughter in general, he had been met with denial from most of the household staff, claiming they never heard anything. Bard had thought he was going mad until Sigrid mentioned that she heard it too.

Maybe their rooms were just located in the worst place for hearing it, maybe it was considerably louder there than anywhere else, maybe everyone else managed to get to sleep before the strains of laughter.

Maybe they were lying.

But _why_ would they? That was what Bard couldn’t fathom and had him thinking of other possibilities why he and his children were practically the only ones at least admitting to hearing it. Maybe it really was Feren and they were trying to protect his job? But Feren didn’t have friends, at least not close ones that Bard had observed, he seemed like the most isolated individual in the whole estate.

So Bard supposed that maybe they really couldn’t hear the noise, and that it just happened to reach Bard’s room the easiest.

Sometimes it almost sounded as though it was close, and getting closer. He always made sure that the door was locked.

It had been particularly loud the night before, and as a result, Bard had not slept well at all, he would not say that it scared him, but it did leave him on edge, whoever or whatever it was making that noise was clearly unhinged and Bard didn’t want them anywhere near his children.

“Bard? Are you alright, you look awfully worn out.” Thranduil’s voice broke through his musings, and if Bard was being honest, he hadn’t heard whatever he had been saying before, almost falling asleep in his chair. The warmth of the hearth and Thranduil’s company making him feel safe. He felt like he was home. It was far too easy to imagine falling asleep in his arms.

“Hmm? Sorry Thranduil, just tired.” He smiled, refocusing himself on Thranduil, which really wasn’t that hard.

“Really? I do hope I am not boring you.” Thranduil replied, a light playful teasing evident in his voice, it was a tone that had become almost usual between them. It was Bard’s favourite tone, it made him think that mischief was just around the corner (and how he would like to get up to mischief with Thranduil).

“You could never bore me.”

“No? I hope I am not keeping you up too late then.”

“You could keep me up all night and I would be glad.” Bard responded, blushing a little when he realised how Thranduil had interpreted his words as the hunger in his gaze became more apparent than usual. Bard really had only been meaning talking. Not that he was adverse to what he suspected Thranduil was thinking of either.

“As would I.” Came Thranduil’s tempting voice, gone low a slightly rougher. There was a tense pause while the two let their eyes roam, these pauses were not uncommon between them, like they were dancing just on the edge of a precipice, ready to fall off at any moment.

Bard was just about to clear his voice and thin of something to say, the tension often getting to him before Thranduil, but Thranduil spoke up first.

“Really, tell me, why are you so tired Bard?” Thranduil asked, concern laced through his voice this time.

“I have not been sleeping well, not at all the last couple of nights.” Bard admitted.

“You must tell me what is troubling your sleep, it simply will not do for my son’s tutor to end up falling asleep during lessons.” Thranduil teased, but Bard could tell that he genuinely did want to know why Bard could not sleep, and he supposed that Thranduil might be able to help, or at least would have some answers about the strange laughter. At the very least Bard thought he would probably look into it, he seemed so genuinely concerned for Bard’s tired state, it made him smile.

“Well, almost every night now I hear this strange, unnerving laughter. Some days it sounds as though it is right outside my door! Other nights it sounds far away, bouncing around the walls. The other servants claim that they do not hear it, or that it is Feren, but really I don’t believe that is true. Have you heard it? Or do you know what it is?” Bard asked, and though he did not know what, he knew the moment he stopped talking that he had said something wrong.

Thranduil’s face, usually so open with Bard, had closed off completely, like a stone wall had come up between him and Bard, shutting Bard out and making Thranduil’s emotions nigh impossible to determine. He couldn’t even tell if he was angry, but he had definitely gone cold. Bard felt as though the entire room had gone cold, even the flames of the burning hearth seamed to weaken.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” Thranduil replied coolly. “Do not speak of it again.” And Bard could not help but think his second statement somewhat contradicted the first one.

Bard was caught off-guard by Thranduil’s response, he had never been face with a cold, closed off version of him before. It was like there was suddenly a wall of ice surrounding him and Bard did not know how to thaw it.

They sat through their first awkward silence until Bard finally thought of something to say, completely changing the subject round to Legolas. He desperately wanted to know what was going on, but he simply could not stand Thranduil behaving in such a cold way towards him, it cut him like a knife.

No matter what he said, how many subjects he changed to, Bard could not get more than clipped, monosyballic responses from Thranduil, he seemed troubled, like a shadow had fallen over his fair features and darkened his countenance. Bard hardly knew what to do, how he should behave what he should say. For everything he did say was met with near silence or short responses, and they were hurting him. He could not stand it for long.

“I feel it is getting late, I should take my leave of you. Goodnight, Mr Oropherion.” Bard bid him goodnight, far more formally then he ever had done before. Bard used his surname, he did not know what had happened, where they stood, if their normal familiarity would be welcome. It felt unusual on his tongue, and at its use Thranduil’s gaze snapped to him, he looked almost hurt, completely conflicted, but he did not say anything.  

Bard never mentioned the noises again.

After that night, he didn’t hear the laughter anywhere near his door again, but what he did hear during the night now sounded almost tortured, hysterical and mad. And if looks could kill, the one that Feren was now sending him whenever he saw him would definitely do the trick.

The next day was a Saturday, which meant no lessons for Legolas so the kids would probably spend all day running around in the garden, although it looked as though it would pour with rain later, so Bard hoped they would come in before he had to go get them to prevent any of them catching their death.

After the previous evening, Bard had every intention of keeping well out of the way and just reading some books in his rooms, the ones Thranduil had bought him awkwardly enough, hopefully he wasn’t going to ask for them back but honestly Bard had no idea what had happened last night. He had no idea if Thranduil even wanted anything to do with him anymore.

Hiding. He was hiding.

Bard was scared about what Thranduil might say to him, how their relationship might’ve changed, so he was one hundred percent completely hiding. Or at least, he tried to.

He was sat on his bed, just getting into the meat of the story when there was a knock on his door.

“Come in.” He called, setting a bookmark in place and putting the book down as the door opened to reveal Tauriel.

“Your kids told me I’d find you in here. What on earth are you doing? Come read in the drawing room or library or at least the kitchens, you must be straining your eyes something terrible in here.”

“No no, I’m fine.” Bard protested, although it was in vain as it only took Tauriel ten minutes before he was sat in the corner of the kitchens.

The problem was, the kitchens were very noisy, and despite having three children, Bard had never developed the skill of reading where there was lots of noise. He knew Tauriel would never let him get away with skulking back off to his room, so he snuck out, with every intention of sneaking off to one of the many dark, secluded corners of the library among the shelves.

But of course, the moment he stepped out of the kitchen he was just meters away from a pacing Thranduil. Thranduil who never really came down here and looked if anything, like he had been waiting for someone.

He would bet he and Tauriel had worked together.

Thranduil spun to face him as soon as the kitchen door opened, Bard wondered for a second if he had been doing that all morning and scaring the poor souls coming out of the kitchen. No matter how long Thranduil had been standing there, he still looked lost for words.

“Mr Oropherion, I was just heading to the library.” Bard said politely, head bowed slightly, he saw how Thranduil flinched, whether it was from Bard’s words, his tone, his body language or all three Bard did not know.

“Please do not call me that.” Thranduil implored, his voice made it sound like he would beg. He inched closer to Bard and for a second Bard thought he was going to reach out and take his hand, but Thranduil’s arm dropped back to his side, it was probably a good thing.

“Very well, did you need something sir?” Bard asked, wanting to escape this situation.

“Please, Bard.” Thranduil responded almost begging, with another wince at Bard’s formal words.

Thranduil, usually so put together, looked like he had no idea what to do with himself. He looked like he had not slept, little bags clear under his eyes, he was not dressed as immaculately as usual and frankly, he just looked…lost.

Bard could hardly bear to watch. Whilst he was not willing to bring up the laughter again for it was clearly not a good topic, Thranduil was obviously sorry about it, even if Bard doubted he was going to tell him the truth. Bard’s heart was far too involved – despite the secrets – to be able to withstand Thranduil looking at him like that.

So instead Bard sighed, a pretty dramatic sigh really, but he was taking liberties here.

“Come on Thranduil.” He instructed, and at the use of his name Thranduil immediately perked up, following Bard into the library.

Thranduil seemed to know that he was not out of the woods yet though, because instead of engaging Bard in conversation – as he always did when they sat together, regardless of whether or not Bard was trying to read (not that he minded, not even one bit) – he stayed quiet.

Thranduil plucked a book from the shelves and after a few moments he returned, tucking himself in his chair quietly in the room with Bard. Bard read, maybe he was punishing Thranduil a little, but he also did genuinely want to read. However, Thranduil’s nervous little glances over the top of his book did not go unnoticed by Bard, and eventually he put his book down and started a conversation, he didn’t think he’d ever seen Thranduil look so relived or grateful before.

They talked about everything and nothing as usual, although this time there was a different feeling in the air, a tentative one, for the first time coming from Thranduil, not Bard. Thranduil stuck with him throughout the day, like he thought that if he left his side Bard might decide not to forgive him after all, even though he already had.

He came with him when he went to fetch the kids from the rain, he returned with him to the library, he almost timidly asked about Bard and the children eating in the main dining room with him. He helped Bard put the kids to bed, and then they went back to the library, it really was their favourite place.

By the time Bard was considering retiring to bed, the dynamic between them had essentially returned to what it always had been, just with a touch more hesitancy from Thranduil. Bard preferred it when he wasn’t hesitant, he hoped they would get back to normal soon.

“Well, goodnight, I will see you tomorrow.” Bard smiled as they reached the stairs halfway down the hallway, where Thranduil usually broke off to go up to his own rooms.

“Yes goodnight Bard.” Thranduil returned, and for some reason he looked like he was even more nervous than he had been before.

Bard shook it off and smiled again before turning and heading back towards his own rooms, he had only gone half a dozen paces when he heard Thranduil again.

“Bard, wait.” He called quietly, his voice almost sounded like it was shaking, Bard couldn’t fathom what had got him so nervous.

Bard turned back to Thranduil, wondering what it was, but the words dried up in his throat.

Beautiful face full of nerves and caught somewhere between hesitancy and certainty – like he was sure about what he wanted but not sure it would be welcomed – Thranduil’s smooth slender hand came up to cup Bard’s cheek, fingers toying nervously with the bristle of his sideburns. And then slowly, ever so slowly, giving Bard time to pull away if he wanted to, Thranduil brought their lips together.

Bard was so shocked he could barely respond, it was scarcely even a kiss, just a light brush of lips, and yet it left Bard breathless in a way he hadn’t been in years, if ever before.

Thranduil pulled away again gently, brushing his thumb over Bard’s cheek as he spoke.

“Goodnight, Bard.” He said softly and with one final lingering look, he turned and left for bed, leaving a dazed Bard standing in the hallway.

 

Unsurprisingly, when Bard got back to his room he found it pretty hard to actually fall asleep. His mind was racing (although not as fast as his heart which felt like it was about to beat right out of his chest).

He was lying in his bed and just staring at the ceiling, trying to convince himself that _yes_ that had actually just happened, Thranduil had in fact just kissed him.

Thranduil had _kissed_ him.

_Thranduil_ had kissed _him_.

Bard couldn’t stop the ridiculous smile that suddenly came over his face, grinning wildly and feeling so silly even though no one could see him, he grabbed his pillow and buried his face in it, smiling against it.

He was practically vibrating, the smile would not leave his face and  there was absolutely no way he was getting to sleep until he had come down from this high (which didn’t look like it was going to happen anytime soon).

So Bard decided to get up and go for a walk, just around the Hall of course, he wasn’t stupid enough to go out alone in the dark on such a stormy night. He didn’t expect anyone else to be up, and indeed he didn’t come across a soul.

Bard was completely caught up in his own thoughts, anyone who saw him would wonder why he was wandering the corridors at night with a stupid smile on his face.

But no matter how wound up in his own thoughts he might be, Bard would always be jarred out of his thoughts by that deranged, eerie laughter.

Bard’s head snapped up alert as he heard it and started to jog towards where he heard it coming from, but as he turned around the corner and looked up the stairs, he didn’t see Feren or any other person.

He saw thick black smoke. And it was coming out of Thranduil’s room.

“FIRE! FIRE!” Bard yelled at the top of his voice, knowing it would have at least woken Tauriel, her rooms were not far, but he couldn’t hesitate to go and make sure she was on her way, he was too busy racing up the stairs towards Thranduil’s bedchamber.

The door was ajar, which was more than suspicious but Bard didn’t have time to analyse it right now, he charged in and was faced with Thranduil’s room. He had never been inside before, all he had time to take it was that it was large, but now was hardly the time to take in the décor as much of the décor was in fact on fire.

It didn’t seem to have spread too far yet, at the moment it was just the bed curtains, but the flames licked their way up them and if they didn’t get the fire under control quickly it was going to spread. But Bard’ priority was Thranduil, who was somehow managing to sleep through this in the middle of a bed, surrounded by burning drapes.

“Thranduil!” Bard shouted at the top of his lungs, trying not to inhale any of the thick smoke that was steadily filling the room.

Thranduil began to stir and Bard lunged across the bed and grabbed his arm, dragging him forcefully out of the bed and pushing him away to safely, the bastard needed to wake up and Bard didn’t have time to be gentle with him.

He shoved Thranduil towards the door and grabbed the large pitcher by the bed and doused as much of the fire as he could, before grabbing the bowl Thranduil must keep as a wash basin and throwing it over the rest of the fire. He grabbed the bed clothes that were miraculously not on fire yet and used them to smother the flames that were still burning.

There were still some little flames, but they were easily quashed as Tauriel came charging into the room carrying a very large bowl of water (really Bard was surprised he could carry it, she was clearly stronger than she looked).

Finally able to catch his breath Bard whipped around to find a dazed Thranduil coughing relentlessly and coming to his senses slumped against the doorway. Bard rushed over to him and supported some of his weight and Thranduil continued to cough.

“Tauriel could you get him some water?” Bard asked, but she was already on her way down the corridor, presumably to do just that, and sure enough she returned moments later with an entire pitcher.

“What happened?” Thranduil asked Bard, voice a little wheezy when he had finally stopped coughing enough to speak.

“I couldn’t sleep so I was just walking the corridors trying to wear myself out, when I turned the corner I could see smoke coming out of the door.” Bard explained, and Thranduil nodded.

“I must’ve forgotten to put my candle out.” Thranduil tried, but Bard could see the candle, is wasn’t lit and it wasn’t wet, whatever had cause the fire, it wasn’t his candle.

“That can’t be right, you candle is neither lit nor wet, nor may I add anywhere near your bed curtains. I heard that dreadful laughter you told me belonged to Feren.” Bard continued, addressing that part to Tauriel, he’d rather not bring it up, but he had deep suspicions about the fire. “I was following it when I came across your room.”

“Ah, yes well, Feren…sleepwalks some times.” Thranduil evaded, but Bard wasn’t done yet.

“Thranduil when I got here the door was already open.” He pushed, holding onto his arm a little desperately.

“Sometimes I forget to lock it, indeed that seems a good thing at the moment.” Thranduil answered, but that hadn’t been what Bard had meant.

“No Thranduil, it was ajar, someone had been in your room.” Bard insisted, and by someone they knew he meant Feren.

“Tauriel, would you go check on _Feren_ please.”

“Of course of course.” She answered, hurrying off down the corridor and up the next flight of stairs, up to the upper left wing, exactly where Bard had been forbidden to go, what business did a tailor have with whatever was up there?!

“Thranduil I think someone tried to kill you.” Bard pushed, worry overcoming him he couldn’t stop his hands smoothing over Thranduil’s face and arms. His loose thin night clothes were allowing Bard more access than Thranduil’s normal clothes permitted, he just needed to check the fire hadn’t caught Thranduil anywhere.

“Bard, I am sure that was not the case, maybe I just forgot to shut my door properly last night. I did have other things on my mind.” Thranduil smiled a little cheekily, a reminder of how they had parted, trying to soothe Bard, but it was not working.

“No, no I am sure of it. There is no other explanation. Thranduil you must take this seriously.” Bard insisted, because really, what other explanation was there? He was working himself up, he could feel it, he could hear it in his voice, but he couldn’t stop it.

“Bard, please calm yourself, and do not worry yourself with these things again. Feren is not trying to kill me.” Thranduil told him, voice gentle and catching Bard’s hands, stopping their frantic movements.

“But Thranduil I hea–” Bard started, but before he could finished, Thranduil’s strong arms encircled him and drew him in against his chest, holding him there tightly. Bard lost his words, and it wasn’t long before he couldn’t help but melt into the embrace, bring his own arms up around Thranduil and holding onto him as well.

“There, is that better my love?” Thranduil asked quietly as Bard relaxed in his arms, the unexpected endearment making him hold Thranduil tighter. “I promise I will look into it, but in the morning, at the moment I am tired.”

“Where will you sleep?” Bard asked, pulling back and looking at the charred drapes surrounding Thranduil’s bed, and the bed itself hadn’t escaped entirely either.

For a moment, Thranduil gave Bard a lecherous look that made him blush, guessing Thranduil’s thoughts, and truthfully, he would invite Thranduil into his bed, but they were sure to be caught, by his children or other members of the household staff.

Bard knew his children would never begrudge his feelings for Thranduil, even if they were directed at another man, it was not their way, it was not how he had raised them. But it didn’t mean that they would appreciate catching their da in bed with him come morning (and knowing Thranduil Bard would bet that the moment he was in a bed with him, clothes would be considered surplus by the blonde).

“I’ll stay in the library. As I am sure you know there is a rather sizeable sofa, I am sure I will be quite comfortable.” Thranduil assured him, starting to gather up some blankets and head that way.

“Can you not stay in one of the guest bedrooms?” Bard inquired, knowing that the Hall had a great many rooms.

“I could, but they are not made up and I would not want to trouble Tauriel at this obscene hour in the morning, I am sure she is keen to get back to bed.” Thranduil explained, and really, that was incredibly considerate of him, but still when they reached the library Bard paced around as Thranduil used the blankets to turn the sofa into a makeshift bed for the night.

“What is it Bard?” Thranduil asked from where he was now lying under his blankets, smiling at Bard, he sounded almost amused, although Bard did not find any of it remotely amusing (of course, Thranduil was most likely finding Bard’s pacing amusing, but still, this was not a funny situation).

“It’s just, the door doesn’t lock, and I’m, I’m a little worried.” Bard admitted, well it might lock, but Bard sure as hell didn’t have the key and Thranduil didn’t look like he had keys on him either.

“There is nothing to worry about.” Thranduil tried to reassure him again, but frankly Bard wasn’t buying it. He was about to protest again, but Thranduil lifted up the blanket. “You could join me. Keep me safe.” Thranduil proposed, and it was definitely a little teasing, but there was also a note in there suggesting that he did genuinely desire Bard’s company.

Toeing off his shoes and with only a little hesitation, Bard slipped onto the (thankfully) wide sofa next to Thranduil. He expected to have Thranduil’s chest against his back and an arm slung across his waist, but instead Thranduil nudged Bard onto his back and tucked himself into Bard’s side, tangling their legs together and resting his beautiful head on Bard’s chest, letting out a sigh.

They fell asleep like that, Bard running his fingers through Thranduil’s silken hair and Thranduil drawing light patterns on Bard’s chest with his soft fingertips. And if the way Thranduil held onto him through the night was any indication, Bard knew he was more shaken by the fire than he was letting on.

In the morning, Bard slipped carefully out from under Thranduil, laying his head gently down on the cushion (now that his cushion of choice – Bard’s chest – had moved) Thranduil snuffled in a way that really was quite adorable and burrowed back down into the sofa. It was no secret that their employer enjoyed his lie-ins; (“It’s Sunday Bard, the day of rest, I’m only doing what I’m told” – not that the inhabitants of Mirkwood Hall ever seemed to attend church).

Bard made his way down to the kitchens, hoping to be able to look like he had not spend the night cuddling with their employer (although Tauriel would definitely recognise his clothes from the night before, she was far too observant not to). He was expecting there to be a bit of raucous after the events of last night, word travelled fast in a place like this.

But when he got there everyone was just going about their business like normal, there was no extra chatter there was no gossiping, it was as if no one even knew it had happened. But they did, they _did_ know. It was like they weren’t allowed to talk about it. And Feren breezed through the kitchen at one point like nothing had happened, giving Bard a colder look than ever before.

“Why is Feren still here?” Bard asked Tauriel as she went about her business.

“Really Bard, the fire was a freak accident. Feren was fast asleep it couldn’t have been him.” She waved him off, as they walked.

“But I heard him laughing.” Bard pushed, so much about the incident did not add up, there was too much coincidence, it couldn’t have been an accident.

“Yes, well he must’ve been laughing in his sleep.” Tauriel explained away again.

“Servants quarters are nowhere near Thranduil’s.” Bard pointed out, there was no reason for Feren to be over there.

“Then I guess he was sleep walking.” Tauriel stated, her growing exasperation clear. “Bard, please just let it lie. No one was hurt and I promise you it was not Feren. Now just move on, I beg of you.” She implored with a pleading look before marching off and continuing her chores for the day.

Bard knew what he had heard, he knew what he had seen, and that fire was no accident. But then _why_ would Tauriel be covering for Feren, _hell_ , why would Thranduil be letting him stay on? The other thing Bard couldn’t puzzle out was what motive Feren could possibly have for wanting Thranduil dead? It just didn’t make sense.

There was another option of course.

That it was someone else who the deranged laughter belonged to, and _they_ had tried to kill Thranduil.

But who on earth could that be?         

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

Bard spent the next day with the children, as he usually did on a Sunday, just keeping an eye on them while they were playing, although to be honest Bard usually ended up joining in their games too, the children wanted him to and he would be a liar if he claimed he didn’t enjoy it.

“Da, where were you last night?” Sigrid asked with a raised eyebrow, giving Bard a pointed look, letting him know that she was well aware he wasn’t in his room. There was no way a fourteen year old should be able to deliver such a look seriously, and yet she pulled it off.

He wasn’t sure how much to tell her, no matter how often she behaved so much older, she was still only young. He didn’t want to scare her about the fire, and if he told her about Thranduil then she would also have to keep it a secret and he wasn’t even entirely sure what it was yet, or if Thranduil would appreciate him sharing something that wasn’t even anything yet with his daughter.

But _god_ did it feel like something, it felt real to Bard. The kiss and then last night had bought so many of Bard’s emotions to the surface, the ones he had been trying to bury and ignore were now blazing through his heart and he could barely contain them.

“Um, well, there was a little accident in Thranduil’s chambers that caused a small fire and I helped out. Everyone is fine though.” Bard answered vaguely, and Sigrid did not look satisfied with his answer as she sat down next to him.

“And then you didn’t come back.” She added suspiciously. “You know it’s fine da, we don’t mind. We like Thranduil.” She finished with a bright smile, and since when was it his daughter’s job to comfort him, surely it should be the other way around?

“Look darlin’, I’m not even sure what is going on between us at the moment, but I need you to understand that a lot of people will not…look on anything between myself and Thranduil kindly. In fact it would be the exact opposite, we could get into a lot of trouble.” He explained only a little awkwardly, hoping that she understood enough not to go around chattering about it, not that he thought she would, but he didn’t want to risk it.

“Is it because you’re both men?” She asked, Bard wished she didn’t have to know about the ugly aspects of the world, but then, he supposed she already did, she’d had to grow up far too fast already.

“Yes. Most of the people in the world think it’s wrong. It’s illegal, we could go to prison.” Bard sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face, nothing about this situation was remotely simple.

“But you love each other.” Sigrid pushed, sounding almost confused, and it made Bard so happy that she was all but unable to even grasp this concept, he had raised her right by keeping her away from those prejudices.

And did Bard love Thranduil? He was certainly well on his way if he didn’t already. He was falling hard, at a rate that was definitely stupid and completely against his better judgement. In all honesty, if he didn’t love him already, he would soon, that much was clear.

“Yeah well, me and Thranduil, we haven’t exactly talked about it.” Bard replied, knowing that they probably should be talking about it, but he truly had no idea how to start that conversation.

“You don’t need to, it’s obvious.” Sigrid smiled, but that only worried Bard, something which she clearly picked up on. “Don’t worry da, only to me. And I won’t say anything, it’s okay.” She smiled warmly, bumping his shoulder with her own before getting up and running off to join back in with the game.

Really he had no idea how Sigrid was only fourteen, when she knew exactly what to say so often, he hated that her childhood and been cut so short with the death of her mother. But occasionally, while they were here in Mirkwood Hall, he would see her running around with Legolas and Tilda and Bain, and it was like she was reclaiming part of that. She was having fun, charging around and laughing loudly and without reservation. It made Bard smile, it was just another reason he was falling for Thranduil, he could easily have told them they were to be neither seen nor heard, but instead they had almost complete run of the house and grounds and more than once he had been coaxed into joining in their fun along with Bard.

He never wanted to leave.

Thinking of Thranduil, it occurred to Bard that he hadn’t actually seen him since this morning, so with a quick word to the kids to be good and stay in sight of the house, Bard ventured back inside to find him.

Bard’s first port of call was the library, just in case Thranduil was being especially lazy and still hadn’t gotten up, despite it being after lunch (it wouldn’t be the first time Bard was sure). But when he went in there was only one blanket draped over the back of the sofa to indicate that anyone had slept there last night.

Bard folded up the blanket and took it with him, he could either ask Tauriel to return it to his room or guest room or wherever he was planning on staying for the next few nights. Bard continued his search, not finding him in any of his usual haunts, he even knocked on the door of his study, even though he didn’t usually work on a Sunday, but that was empty too.

Eventually, Bard decided to venture up to Thranduil’s room, after last night’s developments he was fairly sure he was allowed, even if it was technically in the out of bounds upper left wing, but Bard had a feeling it was the next flight of stairs he wasn’t supposed to go up, although why he still had no idea, hopefully Thranduil would tell him one day, before the curiosity killed him.

He knocked on the door, and when that velvety baritone voice told him to come in, Bard expected to find him taking down the drapes and clearing out the singed things, or maybe picking up some things to move to whichever guest bedroom he was in. But that was not what Thranduil was doing.

He was packing.

And from the looks of the room the case he was filling was not the first one he had packed.

“Thran? Um, are you going somewhere?” Bard asked a little nervously, not sure where the nickname came from, but liking it all the same. What he didn’t like was the way Thranduil jumped slightly upon hearing Bard’s voice, like he was a naughty child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Bard! What are you doing here?” Thranduil inquired, running a hand through his hair in a nervous gesture that was more than a little out of character.

“Well I was looking for you.” Bard answered slowly, holding out the blanket.

“Oh, right yes thank you.” Thranduil replied, taking the offered blanket and placing it over the back of a chair.

“So are you? Going somewhere I mean.” Bard asked again, more than a little worried that Thranduil looked like he was running away, god this was not how this was supposed to go.

“Yes, I’ve uh, been called away on urgent business.” He explained almost done with his packing, and honestly, Bard couldn’t tell if that was the truth or not.

“Oh.” Bard watched while Thranduil fastened his suitcase, worrying at his bottom lip with his teeth, knowing he should probably not ask, but finding him unable to help himself. “Were you going to say goodbye?” Bard asked and he hated the waver in his voice, the way the hesitancy and vulnerability in his tone gave away too much, too much of his heart.

Whether because of Bards words or his voice or both, Thranduil’s shoulders sagged immediately from the tense hold they had been in and turned to face Bard. At first Thranduil look conflicted, which only made Bard worry more, what if he had made a serious mistake yesterday, but then, Thranduil had kissed _him_ , Thranduil had invited _him_ onto the sofa.

But Thranduil looked at Bard’s worried face for about two seconds before his conflicted expression melted right off his face and he strode forward.

“Do not worry, please, I do not like it when your features are clouded by it. I would have you never have to worry about anything again.” Thranduil stated firmly, taking Bard’s hands in his own and bringing them to hold against his chest.

“But why are you leaving? I know we have never talked about this and it is wrong for me to ask anything but– ” Bard started, loathing the way he sounded like a nervous maiden during her first courting, but Thranduil interrupted.

“And that is a conversation for another time, not now, not when I must leave.” Thranduil replied, squeezing Bard’s hands reassuringly.

“But _why_ must you suddenly depart?” Bard pushed, hoping that he didn’t sound petulant.

“Work, I shall not bore you with the details.” Thranduil semi-explained, and Bard supposed that only a week ago he wouldn’t have wanted more of an explanation so he shouldn’t push for one now, no matter what was happening between them. Besides, he knew that Thranduil had to work away from his home a lot, and Tauriel had even expressed her surprise that he was spending so long here at the moment.

But still, Bard couldn’t help the way he felt, like he was being left behind, no, like he was losing something he never quiet had in the first place.

“I do not want you to go.” Bard admitted in a low murmur, eyes trained on the floor, surprising himself by saying it at all. He would’ve regretted it immediately were it not for the slender fingers on his chin, gently guiding him back up to face Thranduil.

Thranduil looked hesitant, and for a moment Bard thought he was going to say he would stay, but unfortunately it seemed that he either could not or would not, Bard was unsure which.

“I have to.” Was his response, and Bard wanted to ask why when he clearly didn’t really want to go, but he was distracted by the soft red lips now pressing lightly against his own and stealing all his thoughts and fears away.

Thranduil pulled away and picked up his case, pausing at the door to place one last reluctant, lingering kiss against Bard’s dazed mouth before leaving.

For some reason it felt like a goodbye, and not just for a few weeks.

The feeling scared Bard, even though he wondered how he could be scared of losing something he didn’t feel had had ever quite had.

Legolas could barely be calmed when he found out Thranduil had left, screaming and crying and Bard had to chase him all the way up the drive and catch him when he realised he was trying to run after his ada. After Bard scooped up the shouting kicking bawling child, Legolas clung onto him, refusing to let Bard put him down, holding onto him and balling his little fists in Bard’s shirt, burying his head against him.

Bard would scold Thranduil for not so much as telling Legolas he was leaving when he got back. And he couldn’t help but wonder that if Bard had not caught him, whether or not he would’ve left without telling him either. But he was fairly sure he already knew the answer to that.

His children were visibly saddened to hear that Thranduil had left, and Tilda had asked him why Thranduil hadn’t said goodbye, her sad little voice cutting through him, like she was scared she had done something wrong. He told her he just had to leave in a hurry because of work, because even Bard wasn’t sure why he had really left, though he had his ideas and his fears.

So they spent the day in the drawing room, Legolas latched onto his side and showing no signs of letting go, but he had stopped wailing. Bard read to the children and they played around inside, although much of their usual zeal was gone, Bard knew how they felt.

He must’ve fallen asleep in his armchair, Legolas curled up against his chest, finally having exhausted himself, because the next thing he knew, Sigrid was nudging his arm to wake him.

“We were going to go to bed.” She said quietly and Bard nodded, looking at the clock.

“Yeah, sorry, Tilda should already _be_ in bed.” Bard pointed out, scolding himself not his daughter of course, that was his job not hers.

Very carefully so as not to wake the sleeping child on his chest, Bard stood up, taking Legolas with him, who just adjusted to the movement without so much as opening his eyes.

“It’s okay da, you take Legolas to his room.” Sigrid said as Bad struggled between taking his own kids to bed or settling Legolas into bed first.

“Thank you darlin’” he smiled, as she took Tilda’s hand and Bain followed her down the corridor.

Bard carried Legolas to his own room, by this point in his life he was well practiced at juggling a sleeping child and opening doors and getting them ready for bed. He managed to pry Legolas off him gently, tucking him into bed and smoothing a hand over his forehead and blonde hair.

“Goodnight Legolas, I’ll be here in the morning.” Bard reassured, just in case it helped Legolas sleep, the comfort that Bard wasn’t going anywhere.

“Goodnight da.” Legolas mumbled sleepily, snuggling down into his bed and Bard felt a lump in his throat and his heart swell at just how much he cared about this little boy. How he and his children had easily made room for him in their little team. How much he really did feel like one of Bard’s own children.

He pressed a kiss to Legolas’ forehead before leaving the room quietly and heading to his own.

 

No one seemed to have any idea when Thranduil would be returning, nor really why he had left beyond the vague ‘work’ excuse, but then Bard wondered if anyone ever knew anything more than that usually anyway. Perhaps he was just being paranoid.

And maybe he was just projecting, but it seemed to Bard like there was something dejected in the air when Thranduil was gone this time, the kids were in general less hyper, although they of course still had fun, children were good at that. And his kids were excellent at cheering up Legolas, even if he barely let Bard out of his sight at the moment, Bard was considering getting him a bed set up in with Bard’s children just so he really felt safe and assured that Bard wasn’t going anywhere.

He wondered if part of the odd feeling was the rain, it had been almost solidly miserable outside since Thranduil had left, and not the fun kind of downpour that it is liberating to run around in, but that horrible English drizzle that just goes on and on.

Either way, everyone seemed a little dejected this time around. At least the constant pitter-patter of rain against Bard’s window usually managed to drown out all of that dreadful laughter.

It had been a month, and while that was no longer than Thranduil was usually away (considerably less in fact) every day began to fill Bard with worry, like he was staying away because of Bard, that that really had been the real reason he had left in such a hurry. But maybe Bard was just anxious because for the first time in a long time, and with the exception of his children, Bard’s heart had decided that it unequivocally wanted someone, and that someone was Thranduil. A _man_ , his employer no less! So much about this could go so wrong for Bard, and yet, he just couldn’t help himself.

And everything Thranduil had done suggested that the feeling was decidedly mutual, he had kissed him, _twice_ , and he had been the one to ask Bard onto the sofa. So maybe Bard was just overreacting, letting his jittery, nervous heart get the better of him.

So Bard forced himself not to overthink it, and to wait for Thranduil to come back to them, to him.

And not two weeks later, he did, although considerably not in the fashion Bard – or anyone – had expected from their reclusive employer.

Bard came out of his room one day and into the kitchen as he always did, only to find everyone dashing about in some sort of frenzy, he had never seen anything like it.

“Oh excellent Bard, I was just going to have to come and get you.” A harried Tauriel started saying to him while she gathered up more linins. “Can you gather up the children and keep them out of the way? In the drawing room, no actually, you know one of the smaller studies, I can show you the one I mean.”

“Uh, sure. Can I ask why?” Bard ventured, following Tauriel as she strode off down a corridor.

“Because Mr Oropherion, as usual, has given us less than a day’s notice about his return. Only this time, he is bringing an entourage with him.” She griped, and Bard had never heard that tone from her before.

Bard had no idea what to think.

But what he did know, was that bringing an entourage meant that there would be a certain change in etiquette. Bard and the kids, including Legolas, were unlikely to dine with them, their usual places – the library, drawing room, and their free run of the grounds – were going to be restricted while the Hall had guests. And Thranduil was certainly not going to be spending nearly as much time with them, if any frankly.

He wondered if that was why.

Bard would only be joining them if he was ‘summoned’ and really he knew the thought of summoning him probably left a bitter taste in Thranduil’s mouth, too much like an order to an underling, and he would never do that to Bard. So he didn’t expect to see much of him, and honestly, he expected the children to see even less of him, it just wasn’t what society expected for a man in high standing like Thranduil to spend so much time with children, and Bard expected he would be keeping up the ruse of social expectations for the duration of his guests’ stay.

Bard expected Legolas to be a nightmare when he was told that he wouldn’t be able to see his ada so much while he brought guests. But he had just frowned, muttered something about ada not liking guests and having never had them before as he wandered off to continue his drawing.

There greeting upon Thranduil’s arrival was nothing like the one before there were no hugs from the children or teasing words from Thranduil for Bard. He arrived with a company of rich looking individuals, but the one Bard noticed like a knife to the chest was the beautiful woman whose arm was imperiously looped into Thranduil’s. He could barely look, eyes trained on the floor, willing himself not to flee or let a stray tear escape, he would not show that weakness.

Maybe he had the wrong idea, and it wasn’t as it seemed, but when he cautioned a glance all he saw was the beautiful woman giggling and holding onto Thranduil’s shoulder, his arm slung about her waist. There were no looks for Bard.

At the sight of the woman, two little hands were slipped into his own, one was Legolas’, one was Sigrid’s, squeezing his hand reassuringly, but Legolas felt almost defiant, although not towards Bard, that was for sure.

“And who are these precious little things.” Came a moderately patronizing female voice.

“This is my ward, his tutor, and his children.” Thranduil’s hurtfully detached and bored voice introduced them, he didn’t even bother with names. He hadn’t even called Legolas his son.

“Well I don’t have to ask which one is yours. Such a handsome little boy.” She crooned, crouching down as if to talk to Legolas, but he tucked himself firmly behind Bard’s legs, the woman seemed nonplussed.

“Legolas, aren’t you going to greet Lady Idrill?” Thranduil asked his son, but Legolas just tucked in closer to Bard. “And what about me, don’t I get a hug.” Thranduil crouched down and asked, and Bard could tell he was caught off-guard by Legolas’ less than enthusiastic greeting, so used to him refusing to let go of him for the day. The exact opposite happened today. Legolas tucked himself further still into Bard’s side, ignoring his father.

“Legolas, are you alright?” Thranduil pushed, and this time, Legolas pulled on Bard’s hand and gestured to be picked up, and when Bard did, he buried himself against him, refusing to so much as look at his father.

“If that is all I think I will take the children for some fresh air.” Bard lied, he just wanted to get them away, this wasn’t doing any good for any of them.

“I must admit Thranduil, it is a bit strange to have a tutor and _his_ children living here with you.” Lady Idrill stated before Thranduil could speak, like they weren’t even there, and for some reason, the use of Thranduil’s first name hurt Bard more, like that had been something reserved just for him before. “Let alone them mixing together like this.”

“It is good for Legolas to have other children about.” Thranduil spoke, and at least he sounded slightly more defensive, although whether it was of Bard and his kids or because he didn’t like any of his decisions being criticised was up for interpretation.

“Nonsense I’m sure he would be fine. Besides it would be good for him, he looks far too dependent as it is.” She carried on, and Legolas’ grip on him tightened slightly.

“Are we excused?” Bard addressed Thranduil, making sure his face was a blank mask and doing his upmost to sound polite instead of like he was having to grit it out through his teeth.

“Yes, you may go.” Thranduil allowed, he looked as though he wanted to say something, but Bard guessed he could hardly say whatever it was in front of an audience. And right now Bard didn’t want to hear it anyway.

He nodded politely – if a little stiffly – and led the children away towards the small study they had been told by Tauriel was okay for them to use. He hadn’t gone ten paces when he heard that condescending woman’s voice again, laced with derision.

“Honestly what is he, a tutor or a wet nurse?” she laughed, as if Bard couldn’t still hear. He didn’t know what Thranduil’s reaction was, but he felt eyes on his back.

Bard kept walking.

In the little study (where Bard and Tauriel had managed to smuggle Legolas’ piano earlier, hopefully Thranduil wouldn’t notice, but technically it was Legolas’ so surely it should be wherever he was). Bain and Tilda were fiddling around on said piano, coming up with little tunes.

Sigrid was reading, Bard had been surprised to see that it was not one of the books Thranduil had brought her, but something else entirely, he knew for a fact that she was only halfway through one of them. When he had asked her why she wasn’t reading it, she had just shrugged and said she didn’t want to right now. Bard thought he knew why and gave her a frim kiss on top of her head. Bard wasn’t the only one being hurt by Thranduil’s thoughtless actions, if it was just him he would be able to force his emotions back far easier.

Legolas wanted a story read to him, and Bard didn’t really feel like forcing him to try and read it himself, so they sat down in an armchair in the corner and Bard read him a story, he even did the voices, much to Legolas’ delight.

“Leg, why didn’t you greet your ada with a hug like you normally do? You probably hurt his feelings.” Bard asked gently, so that he could satisfy his curiosity, not because he felt particularly sorry for Thranduil at the moment.

“He is hurting your feelings, and I don’t like that.” Legolas replied simply, his little face scrunching up, like thinking about it made him angry at his ada, Bard just scooped him back up and gave him a big hug – a big bear hug as Tilda would call it – which Legolas happily returned.

Bard got a message later that evening from one of the servants that Thranduil had asked for _his ward_ to be brought to him. Bard told the servant that he thought it was inadvisable, Legolas was tired and probably irritable and he was just about to put him to bed. Which was a gentle way of saying that no, Legolas wasn’t going to come and be the performing monkey for whatever over privileged guests Thranduil had in the house. He somehow doubted the servant had relayed the message word for word and had probably acted as something of an ambassador. Still, Bard knew Thranduil would understand what he meant anyway.

He owed his son an apology, frankly he also owed Bard and his children an apology.

The next day Bard deliberately kept them all well clear of Thranduil and his guests, who whenever they had come across them earlier in the day, seemed to enjoy looking down their noses at them, which Bard did not appreciate. So he kept them all out of the way, hiding away deep in the garden, in one of Legolas’ favourite spots, completely invisible to the house. And quite miraculously, they were not bothered all day, Tauriel came out to find them at lunchtime – apparently see knew everything, including their whereabouts – with some sandwiches for them all to eat. Settling down on the ground no doubt grateful for the respite herself, giving Bard a consoling look that he was both thankful for and hated.  And when she left it seemed to be on a silent promise that she wasn’t about to tell anyone where they had gotten to.

It was almost a week later, in the evening that they were not so lucky. The five of them were taking their supper at the servants table in the kitchens – not strictly speaking where Legolas was supposed to eat, but he liked to eat with Bard and the main dining room was obviously not an option right now as it was set up for Thranduil and his guests to have dinner.

After supper they stayed in the kitchen, chattering to whoever had a small breather from the unusual workload and just generally keeping out of the way, until Tauriel came in with an apologetic look on her face.

“He’s asking for you to bring Legolas up to the drawing room, well Lady Idrill is asking and Mr Oropherion is humouring her every whim at the moment. But still.” Tauriel explained reluctantly, knowing how carefully Bard had been staying away, for his own sake just as much as the children’s, he didn’t need to see Lady Idrill falling all over him.

“Very well.” Bard sighed, knowing he didn’t have anything resembling an excuse this time.

Legolas was even less enthusiastic about the idea than he was, or at least, Legolas wasn’t old enough to feel the need to hide how much he didn’t want to go. Bard had to make him promise to be on his best behaviour and told him that it would only be for a little while and if he was good then after Bard would make sure he got some extra pudding from the kitchen before he went to bed.

The moment they knocked and entered the room Legolas’ grip on his hand tightened a bit, there were probably about eleven people Thranduil had invited to stay in the hall, all of them were tall and had high cheek bones and just generally had that cold look that most rich people did. Immediately, Lady Idrill fixed them with a disapproving stare.

Bard got the distinct impression that if Mirkwood Hall did indeed get a new Lady of the house, Bard and his kids would be the first to go. He wondered if Thranduil would humour that whim too.

She got up from where she was perched on the arm of Thranduil’s chair, his arm lazily slung around her waist, it made Bard sick to his stomach.

“So, you are master Legolas.” She smiled an obnoxious smile – _why_ did Thranduil like her? “Come here let me look at you.”

Bard gave Legolas a reassuring hand squeeze and nudged him in her direction, even though he would like nothing more than to take him and leave this room immediately. Legolas walked forward reluctantly, dragging his feet and looking at the floor as Lady Idrill took his hands like they were going to be best friends or something.

“Aren’t you going to say hello to me?” She asked him with a condescending little laugh, like she was including the whole room.

“Hello.” Legolas sighed, his un-enthusiasm etched into every word, Bard had to suppress his grin.

“Well, that left something to be desired didn’t it.” She joked again, making the whole room supress a snigger at Legolas, Bard thought he saw Thranduil tighten up just as much as he did, but he could’ve imagined it, he hardly knew what to expect from him at the moment.

 “How about we try that again.” She prompted imperiously, but Legolas just ignored her and stared at the floor. “Well clearly your manners leave something to be desired. And your posture, really straighten your back child.” She instructed and now Bard _really_ didn’t like the way she was speaking to Legolas, and he was pretty sure Thranduil didn’t like it either, but he still wasn’t exactly doing anything about it.

 “Chin up and push your shoulders back.” She ordered, probably thinking she was doing a great favour for Legolas by teaching him this. But Bard and Thranduil both knew Legolas knew exactly how to stand, he just didn’t tend to do it when he was upset or angry or annoyed, and right now, he was some combination of all three, Bard’s hands were practically itching to pick him back up and out of Lady Idrill’s reach, especially when she started pushing his shoulders and lifting up his chin.

“Idrill.” Thranduil commanding tone stopped her straight away. “Leave him be.” Thranduil’s tone brokered no room for argument, but it was little consolation to everything he had done the last week, and even before, when he had just upped and left, which Bard could now see clearly did have something to do with him.

The moment Lady Idrill straightened up and let go of Legolas, he scurried back to Bard, who despite the audience, picked him up easily and rested him on his hip.

“You’re right Thranduil of course. It is not the boy’s fault, much more likely his instruction.” Came her cutting tone as Bard quietly checked Legolas was alright. By some miracle Bard managed to bite his tongue, ready to ask to leave, but Thranduil authoritive voice was speaking before he could.

“Bard is an excellent tutor and I will not have you say otherwise. And if you continue to insult my staff, then you will find your stay here cut short.” He said calmly, but everyone in the room could hear the ice in his voice and everyone seemed surprised, the smile had finally fallen off of Lady Idrill’s face.

Thranduil looked at Bard, his eyes searching, but Bard just looked at him with a mask of formality over his features. While he appreciated it and it made feelings well up in Bard that he was doing a good job at suppressing, it would take considerably more than that for him to forgive Thranduil for his actions lately.

“If that is all sir, then I would like to set Legolas to bed.” Bard told him formally, not missing the almost imperceptible wince that passed over Thranduil’s features, like he was worried about something.

“Yes, that is likely a good idea.” Thranduil nodded, his voice startlingly soft, maybe the room thought he was just comforting an insulted employee, Bard wasn’t entirely sure what exactly he was doing.

He carried Legolas out of the room only noticing one thing, Thranduil’s arm had been stoically placed almost the arm rest, and clearly Lady Idrill was no longer welcome to sit there. But it didn’t change anything.

Bard didn’t care that he could feel Thranduil’s eyes follow him out of the room almost desperately.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus begins the random Tolkien elf cameos (there's actually only two); I am sure Idrill is lovely during her minor part in Tolkien canon, but I didn't fancy butchering the character of any of our well known Tolkien ladies for the purposes of this story, so Idrill got randomly selected


	6. Chapter 6

 

Bard took Legolas to bed, tucking him in and telling him a story (apparently Legolas thought the ones Bard made up were far superior to ones in books). He made sure to do all the required funny voices and let Legolas take over and tell the bits he wanted to, before they finally lived happily ever after (the kid was a sucker for a happy ending) and Legolas settled down for sleep.

He then walked back to his own children and made sure they were also getting ready for bed, when they all demanded one of Bard’s stories as well, voices and all, before they too happily started to fall to sleep, no doubt dreaming of dragon slaying princesses.

Usually when without the company of Thranduil for the evening – which had become the norm at this point, however much it saddened him to admit it, Bard would read in bed for an hour of so until he felt he could fall asleep. But for some reason today he knew that it would likely be a while before he could get to sleep, if he could expect any sleep at all tonight.

So instead of hanging around in his room, inevitably becoming restless and possibly disturbing the children, he decided to leave his room and venture elsewhere. He knew what the reason he wasn’t going to be able to sleep was, it was tall, beautiful and sending infuriatingly mixed messages that were seriously beginning to wind Bard up just as much as they made him nervous and worried.

Thranduil kissed him, invited him to sleep with him on the sofa, and then left abruptly the next morning. He reassured Bard that he was not leaving because of what was happening between them, because of Bard, when all other evidence contradicted that. He made his affections clear but then utterly unclear by bringing a beautiful woman back to the Hall. He encouraged Bard to treat him as an equal, visibly hating it when Bard treated him as his superior, but then he brought home an entourage of people that made certain Bard did have to act formally. Bard wondered if he had brought them back to act as some kind of literal barrier between them. He treated Bard like he was invisible for the past week but then defended him against Lady Idrill, much to his rich guests’ – and Bard’s at this point – surprise.

Bard felt like he was being pulled in two directions, he would be angrier for himself and what (whatever it was) that Thranduil was doing, if he wasn’t too busy trying not to show how much it was hurting. How much every time he saw him with an arm around Lady Idrill it cut Bard viciously, how every time he heard her giggle and hang off his shoulder he felt like someone was trying to tear his heart out, how every time he overheard people saying what an attractive couple they were going to make, he felt hollow and empty.

It was hard to be angry at Thranduil when he was still being hurt by him.

What did make Bard furious was how he had treated Legolas, or allowed him to be treated. That was not okay and that was making Bard angrier each moment he thought about it. So that was what he focused on, it was much easier to be angry than hurt, and it was much easier to be angry on someone else’s behalf than your own. 

So the reason he wasn’t going to be getting any sleep anytime soon was no big mystery, his mind was reeling once again from Thranduil’s mixed messages, and until he could get his thoughts to quieten down, he wasn’t going to be sleeping.

Before he really even knew where he was heading, Bard found himself in the library, what he foolishly called ‘their library’ in his head like he had ever had any claim over it. They had just spent so many long evenings tucked away in here it was difficult to think of it as anything other than ‘theirs’. He probably shouldn’t be in there, technically it was one of the rooms that was at Thranduil’s guests’ disposal, but Bard was fairly sure no one had actually been in here, and the later it got the more unlikely it was that someone was going to come in anyway. So Bard decided to stay, someone should be enjoying the cosy, warm room.

The fire was lit, as it always seemed to be and Bard didn’t know what to think about the fact that his and Thranduil’s chairs hadn’t moved an inch, when really they were sat very close and facing each other by the fire, no good for a larger group of people as it isolated the ones in the chairs, and they were situated more than a little too close together for business talk, or people who were just friends.   

Maybe Thranduil wasn’t allowing his guests in here after all. Or maybe he came in here for long evenings with Lady Idrill and the seat that had been Bard’s was now hers. He tried not to think about that.

Instead he picked a book at random from the shelves and folded himself into his armchair facing Thranduil’s empty one with every intention of distracting himself from his problems and reading either until the morning or until he fell asleep, whichever came first.

He had meant to return to his room and his bed (far more comfortable for sleeping in than the armchair) before he fell asleep, but that apparently wasn’t the case if the hands gently nudging him awake were anything to go by.

Well nudging wasn’t a very good descriptor, they were on his shoulder, squeezing gently and spreading warmth through Bard’s thin shirt.

“Bard, wake-up.” Murmured a low and gentle voice, but his hands were rubbing his shoulders and arms which was making him more comfortable, sinking into the touch and wanting to move even less.

“No, ‘m good.” Bard replied sleepily, he’d probably only been asleep for a few hours, but he really wasn’t feeling like moving.

“You don’t want to sleep here. You’ll end up with an aching back and neck.” Came the melodic voice, the melodic voice that Bard now waking up, very suddenly recognised.

His eyes snapped open and he went stiff as a board under Thranduil’s hands, which seemed to realise that their ministrations on his shoulders were no longer welcome and withdrew them with a reluctant and more than a little awkward expression.

They looked at each other, staring for a few moments, neither of them sure how to act or what to say now that they were alone again. But eventually Bard’s expression moved to anger and he abruptly got out the chair and took a few paces, putting some distance between them.

“Bard– ”

“No.” Bard stopped him, stopped his words and his slight movement towards him. “How could you just up and leave Legolas like that, without even saying goodbye! He tried to chase after you when he found out, when I caught him he wouldn’t let go of me for the whole day, he barely stopped crying for twenty four hours, he didn’t let me out of his sight for weeks! How could you do that! How could you do that to him?” Bard asked, starting at shout but quietening into desperate questions as the fight left him and the hurt returned again, Thranduil wincing with every word.

“I– ”

“H-how could you do that to me?” Bard whispered, and suddenly, they weren’t just talking about him leaving, they were talking about who he had brought back with him, they were talking about them.

“Bard I– ” Thranduil started, but as he stepped forward and reached out for Bard, Bard stepped back and moved away, putting even more distance between them.

“No.” Bad repeated. He hoped Thranduil understood what he meant. He knew they would always have had to be very careful, keep things secret from the world, but Bard was not prepared to play second fiddle to Thranduil’s wife. Something for Thranduil to play with when he got bored of Lady Idrill. Bard refused to ever be that.

 Thranduil’s face looked panicked, like he had no idea what to do, what to say. Bard decided to leave, before Thranduil could come up with a way to talk himself out of the situation entirely, before he could spin Bard an excuse that he would believe, simply because he wanted to. But as Bard’s hand reached the door handle, a frantic voice spoke up behind him.

“I was a coward.” He almost shouted, desperate to stop Bard leaving, but that was not the kind of excuse Bard had been expected, so he stopped turning the handle. “I, I have been a coward and I am so sorry Bard, god I never meant to hurt you or the children. I hate myself for it, I am so sorry you must believe me.”

Thranduil pleaded at him, and Bard was tempted to tell him that actually he didn’t have to do anything, be it believe or forgive him. But there was something in his voice, he knew Thranduil was telling the truth, he did believe him. So Bard turned around slowly and leant against the door, he kept his face as blank as he could, crossing his arms defensively and nodding his head indicating that Thranduil should carry on.

“I got scared. You held me through the night and I had never been happier in my life, my heart had never been as full, my life had never felt so right. I knew right then that I could no longer deny how much I loved you and it _terrified_ me. And I ran away like a coward.” Thranduil admitted, voice quiet and ashamed.

“You told me you were leaving because of work, you lied to me. And then you kissed me, reassured me you were not leaving because of me when _you were_. You lied and I knew right then that you had but I didn’t want to believe it, but then you came back with, with, with that woman. Do you know how much that hurts me? Did you think I felt any less than you did? How could you do that to me? Without warning! Your last words to me had been ones of love and then– ” Bard took a breath, trying to control his voice, keep the tremor from it and hold back the tears that threatened to fall. “How could you do that to me?”

“God Bard I am so sorry I would take it back if I could, I would never have left I swear I did not mean for this, to hurt you like this, please let me explain.” Thranduil begged, and Bard was willing to listen, his heart just wanted him back.

“I’m listening.” He answered stoically save for the almost imperceptible waver in his voice, treacherously giving away how deeply he was feeling this.

“When I realised how I felt, I was scared for a number of reasons. Bard you must know, the world will not be kind to us. It will not care how much we love one another, how deeply we feel. If anyone we couldn’t trust found out, we could be dispossessed, thrown in prison. Bard if we were discovered we could be put to death. And yet I love you, despite the danger it places us both in, I cannot help myself and that scared me.  

“So I ran when I should’ve talked to you and shared my fears and I am sorry for my cowardice. I met Lady Idrill and her obvious interest meant I didn’t even have to try, I was not interested, I could think only of you, but still I tried to distract myself with her. I convinced myself I was doing it for both our sakes, giving us space, trying to interest myself in someone else but I knew it was futile and I knew I was being cruel, driven by my own cowardice. I should never have brought her here. I knew I shouldn’t that I should give up, you had dominated my thoughts since I had left I missed you so. I was lying to myself.

“But the moment I returned, I could not bear what I had done, I saw you and everything I felt just increased tenfold. I wanted to take you in my arms and tell you how sorry I was and how much I love you, kiss you until you knew it to be true. Instead what I did was hurt you. And now that they were here I could not ask them to leave straight away and they were making it so hard to get away and you were keeping your distance so in the small breaks I got from their tedious company I could never find you.

“You have to know, it is you that I want. I barely sleep, knowing I must have ruined it. How could you forgive me for what I have done? For hurting you like this even as I hurt myself every day I did not know how to stop, I was ruled by fear. I am so very sorry Bard, you did not deserve what I have done. I do not expect you to accept my love now, but know that you will always have a home here, I will never take that from you.”

Thranduil finished his speech, looking at the floor in shame. There were delicate tears trailing down his face. And Bard believed him, he believed every word. He had had the same fears, he knew the dangers. But he also knew that most of the household had already known that something had been happening but not a single one of them had seemed to care. Did Thranduil think he wasn’t scared too?

He believed what Thranduil had said, knew he was telling the truth, that he had been a coward, ran away for fear. But Bard needed to know something before he knew if he forgave him.

“Have you kissed her?” He asked, his voice was hardly a whisper, he was scared of the answer, and maybe it shouldn’t matter, just a kiss, but he needed to know.

“No! Bard I swear I never did, never would have. The very idea of kissing someone who is not you makes me sick to my stomach.” Thranduil told him frantically, like the prospect of Bard thinking he had been kissing someone else was one he simply could not stand.

Bard nodded slowly, he wanted to still be mad, but relief was washing over him to heavily for him to be able to hold on to his anger. His hurt was being soothed away with every second that he looked at Thranduil face, so genuinely sorry and ashamed, so afraid Bard would never forgive him. But everyone got scared, everyone made mistakes, and above it all, right this second he just wanted Thranduil back, but it had to be to stay this time, he wouldn’t go through that again.

“You owe the children – especially Legolas – a bloody massive apology.” Bard stated, he was moving forward ever so slowly, Thranduil was stood stock still, like he was afraid that any movement might stop Bard from coming closer.

“Yes, I know first thing tomorrow I promise.” He rushed out, eyes fixed on Bard’s slow approaching steps, Bard wasn’t even sure he was breathing.

“We all get scared, but you are never allowed to do that again. Not to me and not to the children. You talk to me when you’re scared, we’ll work it out together.” Bard continued, almost within reach of Thranduil now.

“I promise, god Bard I promise. I couldn’t do that again, I hate myself for doing it once.” Thranduil took a sharp intake of breath as Bard stood just centimetres from him and gently took one of his slender hands in his own rougher one.

“I love you too.” Bard whispered before cupping Thranduil’s cheek with his free hand and kissing him.

Thranduil froze for just a split second before he utterly melted into the kiss, fisting both his hands in Bard’s shirt and returning the kiss almost desperately. Bard wrapped his arms around Thranduil’s broad shoulders, bringing them closer together, resting one hand on the back of his neck, buried in that silver silk hair, the other dropping down to hold tight around his waist as they kissed.

It was not like the few other kisses they had shared, it was desperate and frantic and needy, filled with promises and apologies and a base _want_ that they had both tried to supress. Bard ran his tongue across the seam of Thranduil’s lips and he opened for him easily, both of them moaning slightly as Bard’s tongue dipped into Thranduil’s mouth.

Thranduil sunk deeper into the kiss as Bard explored Thranduil’s mouth, gliding their tongues together, both of them sighing happily, getting lost in one another. Bard bit down lightly on Thranduil’s lip, starting a whimper from him, making Thranduil kiss him harder and press their bodies closer together. Bard smirked into the kiss and bit down on his lip again, dragging it forward a little before letting it go and getting a needy whine from Thranduil.

His teeth scraped over Thranduil’s lip as he backed him against the nearest bookcase, pushing him against it and boldly running his hands over Thranduil’s lush ass, which from the moan and the way he pushed back into his hands, was exactly what Thranduil wanted. They continued kissing until Bard turned his attention to that pale neck, latching his mouth onto it and sucking as he squeezed at Thranduil’s ass.

With Bard’s mouth preoccupied with Thranduil’s neck, little whimpers and whines were falling freely from Thranduil’s open, kiss reddened lips and his hands scrabbled for grip in Bard’s thin shirt and his ass pushed back into Bard’s strong hands.

Bard slipped his thigh in between Thranduil’s legs and rocked forward, feeling the rapidly growing hardness there and causing a strangled whine to tumble out of Thranduil’s mouth, hands pulling at Bard’s shirt before finding their way under it, and the feel of Thranduil’s hands against the bare skin of his chest and back felt like fire rushing over his skin, making him more desperate to feel Thranduil, see if his bare skin was as soft as it looked.

Rolling their hips together and pulling more delicious sounds out of his pretty vocal lover, Bard started working off Thranduil's pristine layers of clothing, wanting to get to his hands on the porcelain skin of his chest. Thranduil moaned happily as his top layer dropped to the floor until Bard could finally get his hands on his warm, lithely muscled chest.

As he brushed his hand over one of Thranduil’s hard nipples he was rewarded with a gasp, smirking against Thranduil’s assaulted neck and moving both his hands to toy with his nipples while they rutted against each other. Thranduil choked off moans with every roll of Bard’s hips and every tweak of his nipples, rolling the hard buds between his fingers. Bard pulled his mouth off of Thranduil’s marred neck and smirked at Thranduil, keeping their eyes locked as he moved his head down with every intention of seeing how much Thranduil preferred having his tongue and teeth and lips playing with his nipple.

“W-wait.” Thranduil panted, and Bard stopped immediately, worried he had pushed too far.

“Sorry, do you want to stop?” He breathed, pressing a kiss to the corner of Thranduil’s mouth.

“God no. Just, one second.” Thranduil replied, reluctantly freeing himself from Bard’s hold and hurrying over to the door, and for a second, Bard thought he was going to leave (although in retrospect this was stupid because he didn’t even have a shirt on) but then Bard heard the jangle of keys and Thranduil was locking the door so they wouldn’t get any unwanted visitors.

Maybe he’d been going around locking up the rooms, worried about snooping guests when he found Bard, maybe after their impromptu night on the sofa he had decided to take a set of keys with him so he did have to worry. Bard didn’t know and he hardly cared because right now Thranduil was falling back into his arms and wasting no time before he was sucking Bard’s tongue into his mouth and rubbing his hard cock against Bard’s hip through their clothes, making them both moan.

Bard fucked his tongue into that hot mouth and set his hands on the fastenings of Thranduil’s breeches, tugging him forward by the hem as he moved backwards towards their chairs, loosening the claps and ties as they went. They stood between the chairs and Bard slipped his hand inside Thranduil’s trousers stroking him teasingly lightly and making him whine in frustration before releasing him completely and sitting down in Thranduil’s large armchair.

He raked his eyes slowly up Thranduil, his pale chest and cheeks were flushed a tantalising red, his mouth was red and pouty and slightly open as he panted lightly. He was toned although not as obviously as Bard, but he would bet on him being just as strong. His breeches were hanging on his hips, hard cock visibly tenting them though the breeches were lose and ready to fall and pool at his feet at any moment, taking his undergarments with him and leaving him completely bare for Bard.

Bard leant forwards, settling his large hands on Thranduil’s hips and nudging them down just enough to make his breeches slip and fall to the floor, leaving Thranduil naked in front of him. His eyes flickered up and caught Thranduil’s, the ice blue irises almost completely devoured by his dilated pupils as he bit at his lip and stared hungrily down at Bard.

Bard grinned and leant forward, kissing Thranduil’s pale and smooth hip, breathing him in and he nibbled on the skin there, biting in a mark and making Thranduil whine. He moved and teasingly licked a stripe up the hard line of Thranduil’s cock and suckled on the head, Thranduil moaned even more loudly than before and his hips stuttered making Bard hum happily around his cock and the vibrations in turn sending Thranduil gasping.

Bard bobbed his head a few times, savouring the taste of his lover before he pulled off with an obscene pop and one final open mouthed kiss to the head. He would love to see Thranduil come apart under his mouth, and had every intention of doing so in the future, but right now he wanted him in his lap more.

Bard pulled off, settling back into the large armchair as Thranduil whimpered at the loss of his mouth. Bard locked their gazes again as he dragged off his shirt, grinning as Thranduil’s eyed his chest appreciatively. As they drank each other in, Bard started palming himself through his trousers, unable to help himself, knowing he had pleasured himself to the thought of this very sight many times, and his imagination hadn’t done the beautiful creature in front of him justice.

Thranduil noticed what Bard was doing and it was only moments before he ran a hand over his own cock, the movement of his fist becoming frantic quickly, and as beautiful a sight as that was, it wasn’t what Bard wanted tonight either.

He put his hands back on his hips and pulled Thranduil down into his lap, and suddenly, Thranduil’s armchair really did feel like a throne. Thranduil sunk he knees down either side of Bard and immediately started pulling loose the ties on Bard’s trousers. Bard moaned as Thranduil got a hand around his hard cock and pulled him free of the confines of his trousers and pumping him a couple of times before wrapping his arms around Bard’s shoulders and thrusting his hips forward, trapping their cocks between their bare chests and sliding them together.

Bard groaned out at the sensation, rolling his hips in time with Thranduil’s and pushing them together in the best way. Bard moved his mouth forward and wrapped his lips around Thranduil’s sensitive nipple, surprising him and making him cry out and jerk his hips forward harder, trying to get more friction against his cock.

They didn’t have any oil, so they couldn’t do what Bard was pretty sure they both wanted, but he was going to make damn sure it was the best sex Thranduil had ever had anyway.

“Lick.” Bard instructed, holding up on of his palms, and Thranduil happily complied, licking over it until his hand was wet with his spit and Bard brought it down to wrap his hand around as much of them as he could manage.

He squeezed them and palmed over the heads having Thranduil bucking into his hand, before one of his own hands joined Bard’s, letting them circle around both their cocks completely, leaving them both panting and moaning with increasing volume as their hands worked faster and faster in tandem, bringing them both closer and closer to the edge.

Bard brought his other hand up and tapped two fingers on Thranduil’s bottom lip and he eagerly sucked them into his mouth, swirling his tongue around them and increasing the sensation for himself and Bard. Bard withdrew his fingers and licked his way up Thranduil’s chest as his arm moved around Thranduil’s hips and his spit-slick fingers toyed with Thranduil’s hole, teasing at his rim.

Thranduil cried out Bard’s name at the new sensation and practically keened as Bard slipped a finger into his tight hole. God how he wanted to feel that tight heat around his cock, the thought and the feeling of it around it finger was enough to make him pump their hands fasters, both of them bucking frantically, Thranduil crying out a litany of curses and Bard’s name as he thrust forward and fucked himself back on Bard’s finger, he knew they were both getting close.

Bard pressed in a second finger carefully, studying Thranduil’s face to be sure he didn’t hurt him, but he found nothing but blissed out pleasure there. Thranduil was panting out Bard’s name, his movements losing all their rhythm and as Bard brushed his fingers over that hidden bundle of nerves inside Thranduil he shouted and jerked violently, spilling over Bard’s chest, whimpering continually as Bard worked him through it, wringing every last drop from him.

Thranduil looked like he wanted nothing more than to collapse, but there was a determined glint in his dazed eyes and he batted Bard’s own hand away, running his hand over him, squeezing the head and running his palm over it, using Bard’s precome to ease the slide of his hand. Bard was already close, and when Thranduil ran an elegant finger through the come on his chest and sucked it into his red mouth, eyes locked with Bards, he was helpless against his own orgasm, shooting between them in thick ropes. 

Thranduil collapsed on Bard, aftershocks of their orgasms shaking through both of them. After a little while Bard moved, (getting much disgruntled whining from Thranduil as he tried to hold onto him) and discarded his trousers completely before he scooped up Thranduil’s undershirt and used it to clean them both off, wiping Thranduil down gently.

“Do you want to stay here?” Bard asked him, voice low and quiet as Thranduil already looked like he was falling asleep, and Thranduil did indeed nod sleepily.

But sleeping alone in an armchair had been crampt enough and Bard could tell by Thranduil’s grabby hands that he wasn’t the only one who wanted to sleep wrapped up in each other. And unfortunately they didn’t have any blankets, making the only warm part of the room by the fire. So with no small amount of effort on his part, Bard pushed the sofa across the room towards the warmth of the fire, moving their armchairs and a very sleepy Thranduil out of the way as he did so.

Bard slid onto the newly situated sofa, pulling Thranduil down with him and tucking him in against his chest, slinging an arm over his bare waist and twining their legs together. He did wonder if they should put some clothes on, the door was locked so that wasn’t an issue, but he was worried they would get pretty cold if the fire died down. But Thranduil was already asleep, breathing heavily and cuddled against his chest, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like the feeling of all their naked limbs tangled together.

He could always grab them some clothes if they did get cold. (They didn’t).

 

The next morning Bard was kissed awake gently by Thranduil’s lips roaming across his body, setting his body alight with his mouth, and a slight shift in position as Thranduil rolled on top of him completely told Bard that he was not the only one thoroughly interested in where this looked like it was going.

But their morning romp was cut off before it even started as they heard people roaming about just outside the doors, a rude reminder of Thranduil’s now completely unwanted guests.

“Ugh.” Thranduil groaned as they heard the shrill voice of one of his guests demanding various breakfast items from a servant. Thranduil rested his head on Bard stomach, which was as far as he had got in his trail of kisses (and Bard had quite liked where this trail was headed).

“This probably isn’t the time, as much as I was very much in favour of where this was going.” Bard admitted, knowing his eyes were dancing with mischief. Thranduil grumbled but reluctantly agreed, leaning up and placing a kiss on Bard’s lips before climbing gracefully off the sofa.

“I’m going to tell them to leave.” Thranduil stated simply as he started pulling on his clothes and generally trying to make himself look less like he had just spent the night with another man and Bard was following suit, picking up his clothes.

“Really? Is it that simple?” Bard inquired, unsure if it was socially acceptable to just tell your guests to leave without any notice.

“I don’t particularly care, I want them gone.” Thranduil replied as he helped Bard right the room, putting the sofa and their armchairs back and making sure they hadn’t missed any clothes.

Bard nodded and they did one final sweep of the room before Thranduil kissed him again and unlocked the door, sweeping out into the hallway and (hopefully) heading to his rooms to change so that he looked a little less dishevelled, at the moment they were a matching pair.

Bard nipped back to his room and found some fresh clothes before getting his kids out of bed, sending them off to the kitchens for some food and going up to get up Legolas to do the same. Before, Bard hadn’t used to get Legolas up himself, but at the moment he felt better with Legolas at his side, that way he could make sure the ‘guests’ weren’t treating him like some sort of performing monkey or amusing distraction.  

There was a bit of commotion upstairs, shouting loud enough for them to hear down in the kitchens. Only one person was doing the shouting, the other participant of the conversation was obviously answering calmly. Bard would bet that the shrill shouting voice belonged to Lady Idrill, he couldn’t help a smug grin as he ate his breakfast.

The day was actually sunny opposed to just not raining, so Bard let the children go out to play so long as they stayed in view of the house. Bard stuck around inside to help Tauriel clear up and fix the guest bedrooms as all of their guests were pretty rapidly leaving the Hall.

“You had a good night last night I take it then?” Tauriel more stated than asked, looking at Bard meaningfully as another guest marched past them stormily on his way out, Bard blushed incriminatingly.

“Tauriel, we– ” Bard started, but Tauriel interrupted him.

“Don’t worry yourself Bard I have no problem with it. I do not believe that love can be wrong no matter who it is between.” She told him easily, and Bard breathed a sigh of relief. “Bard you’re my friend, as is Mr Oropherion in his own way, he has been good to me. But Bard, be careful with him, not everything is so simple.” She added seriously, and really, she couldn’t think he was that naive could she?

“I know we must be wary to keep it a secret, don’t worry, we will be careful.” He smiled back reassuringly, and there was something in her expression that gave him pause, but maybe it was just because she was worried about them.

Eventually Bard ventured out into the garden to find his children, he couldn’t help his smile as he found Thranduil with them. He was sat on the lush green grass with Legolas in his lap who looked like he was telling him a very exciting story with Bain’s help, while Sigrid and Tilda made what looked like a ring of flowers that Bard had no doubt was about to adorn Thranduil’s head.

He was greeted by his children, all four of them demanding hugs, Tilda and Legolas in each arm and Sigrid and Bain holding onto his middle, he wondered if it was Thranduil coming back to them that had got them like this, in fact, he would bet it was.

They all let go of him eventually and resumed their spots, Bard sinking down next to Thranduil with a shared soft smile, where he was immediately pulled into helping Legolas and Bain tell the story (one of his stories it would seem).

They stayed out there for most of the day, enjoying the unusually sunny day, by the end of which they were all sporting one of Tilda and Sigrid’s circlets of flowers, Bard and Thranduil’s were the only two that matched, he wasn’t sure if that was deliberate or not.

They ate dinner together and spent the evening playing together in the Hall (Legolas begging for hide and go seek, and Bard and Thranduil kept ending up kissing in dark corners as they hid together). It wasn’t even like they had gone back to normal, or what normal was before Thranduil had gone, it was like they were establishing a whole new normal.

They had stopped pretending to each other that they were anything less than a family. None of the staff seemed to care, offering them small smiles, but otherwise the obvious change went completely unacknowledged.

At the end of the day they put their children to bed and went back to Thranduil’s bedroom without even needing to talk about it. Bard leant back against the desk in there, Thranduil linking their hands together.

“We could get the children’s rooms moved up here you know. Then we could all be near each other, I know Legolas would like that, so would I.” Thranduil suggested, running a thumb over the back of Bard’s hand.

“I would like that too.” Bard smiled, leaning in to press a light kiss to Thranduil’s lips. “Thran, obviously I’m not asking for a ring, we could never have that. But no one else, okay.” Bard murmured, needing to make finally sure that they were on the same page.

“No one else.” Thranduil agreed without a pause. “I would marry you in a heartbeat if I could.”

“As would I.” Bard responded, kissing Thranduil affectionately on the nose. “You can’t run away again, you can’t leave us even if you get scared, we’ll work it out together.” Bard told him, squeezing his hands.

“I promise I will never do that again. I am going to stay here with you, with our family, forever.” Thranduil promised him between kisses.

“Yeah.” Bard smiled into the kisses. “Me too.”

 

 

      


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning, there is homophobia in this chapter and the next one, slurs not violence

 

Bard felt like he was living in a dream. It shouldn’t be this easy between them, Bard expected everything and everyone in the world to conspire against them, but that just didn’t seem to be happening.

Obviously they were trying to be relatively discreet, well, maybe discreet was the wrong word but at the very least they were trying not to shove it down anyone’s throat. It wasn’t like they were kissing in the corridors, but the rest of the staff would have to be utterly blind not to know what was going on.

The children were moved up onto the same floor as Legolas and Thranduil, given their own rooms for the first time in their lives. And Bard had all but moved into Thranduil’s room, his clothes slowly migrating over there as he spent his nights with him. They made no pretence about spending their time together when Bard wasn’t teaching and Thranduil wasn’t working. And Bard couldn’t even imagine how many times they could have been – and probably were – seen kissing in the gardens.

It was reckless of them, any one of the servants who saw them could potentially report them and ruin them forever. But it was just so difficult to worry about anything when Thranduil was running his hands over his biceps and kissing him so sweetly that everything else just fell away.

But the thing was, none of the servants _did_ say anything. They all had to know and yet there was not a single one who seemed to have a problem with it, at least not outwardly. And no one ever came to arrest them. At the beginning Bard feared it every day, that they would come and snatch away everything they had, but the days wore on and no one came for them and slowly Bard’s fears drifted away as well. Surely if they were going to be betrayed they would have been already.

Sometimes Tauriel looked like she wanted to say something to Bard, like she was on the verge of telling him something, but she never did, so Bard didn't worry about it. If it was important he was sure she would tell him, she was his friend after all.

As it was the household staff just went about their business. Bard supposed that Mirkwood had always been incredibly insular, cut off from the world seemingly by choice, so maybe this was part of that, maybe they didn’t want to invite outsiders to pry into their home no matter what they really thought of Bard and Thranduil. Maybe it was because even before Bard had apparently improved his temperament immeasurably, Thranduil had been a good person to work for, providing amply for his staff and genuinely seeming to care about them a lot in his own way. 

Bard reckoned a large part of it was that Thranduil had never cared for any past indiscretions his servants had made. So long as they did not do him a wrong turn they were welcome at Mirkwood. Giving people jobs when they had been turned away from every other place was a sure-fire way to garner loyalty, as well as Mirkwood’s shrouded reputation.

The livelihood of everyone working at the Hall relied on Thranduil being around to provide it, and they had all become Bard’s friends in the time he had been there, maybe the combination of all these things was just preventing anyone from saying anything. The only exception to this was Feren, who had never been friendly towards Bard, and while at first the increasingly malicious looks Feren sent him had worried Bard, it did not look like he was going to report them either, for surely he would have done so already if he planned to.

It was also quite possible that they feared Thranduil’s wrath should they be revealed. Bard had heard a story once, of a servant who was cast out and utterly ruined after betraying Thranduil’s trust and kindness, although no one would tell him what the servant in question had done, apparently he had never been able to gain employment again.

Whatever the reason, and Bard almost did not care what it was, they were astoundingly, and against all odds, able to be together in the safety of Mirkwood without particularly having to worry about potential consequences.

The weather also seemed to have improved immeasurably, the sun often shining and leaving them free to spend days outside tucked away deep in the gardens much like they were doing now. The kids were all inside, apparently Tauriel had said something about baking some cakes so naturally they’d all wanted to ‘help’ (eat raw cake mix more like), but Bard didn’t really mind because it meant he and Thranduil got some alone time.

They were well tucked into the maze of the garden, Thranduil knew its layout better than anyone, including the intimate, hidden little corner they were currently in. Bard was sitting with Thranduil’s head in his lap, all that beautiful silken hair splayed out as Bard ran his fingers though it and Thranduil dozed.

The sunshine streamed through the trees and dappled in the grass, the whole place brimming with colour and life, a testament to how well Thranduil looked after his garden.

“This place is so beautiful.” Bard sighed, relaxing back against the tree behind him and stroking his hand through Thranduil’s hair.

“Mmmm.” He sighed, nudging his head further in Bard’s hand. “I spend a lot of time tending to it, so it is unsurprising.” Thranduil replied with his usual modesty, not bothering to open his eyes, Bard snorted and swatted him lightly, Thranduil catching his wrist as he did so. “Striking your employer, a terrible offence.” He smirked.

“Oh I’m so sorry sir.” Bard snarked back.

“That didn’t sound like a very sincere apology.” Thranduil smirked again, one of those dark eyebrows raised, eyes now open looking back and up at Bard through those lashes.

Which really was only ever going to illicit one kind of response from Bard, he had certain memories of Thranduil looking up at him through those lashes now and it was not an image he was ever going to forget.

“I’m sure there’s some way I can make it up to you, _sir_.” Bard grinned at him, having learnt lately that there was one situation when Thranduil didn’t mind being called sir, or indeed calling Bard sir, he was a flexible lover in more ways than one. He was always bloody demanding though (not that Bard minded).

Thranduil grinned as he tugged Bard’s shirt to bring him down for a kiss that was at a bit of an awkward upside-down angle but perfect nonetheless. Eventually they parted, and Bard made Thranduil whine in protest as he pulled him up from lying down to sitting in the vee of his legs, nestled against his chest.

“I was sleeping.” Thranduil griped, but he didn’t exactly seem to mind that Bard was now kissing his neck instead.    

“No you weren’t, you were just being lazy.” Bard pointed out, nipping Thranduil’s neck when he opened his mouth to protest.

Bard continued languidly kissing his neck, looping his arms around Thranduil’s waist and before long his lover’s head fell back onto his shoulder and let his hands tangle with Bard’s.

“I suppose I could just sleep here instead.” Thranduil murmured, already practically dozing off in the late afternoon sun, all wrapped up in Bard.

“So lazy.” Bard smiled against his skin, but he was more than happy to have a sleepy Thranduil wrapped up in his arms, he loved these days, when there was nothing they had to do and they could just luxuriate in each other and lounge around.

And he loved it when the kids were about, Legolas and Tilda were usually clambering all over them, demanding they join in whatever game they had invented, and Thranduil and Bard were both equally terrible at saying no to them so they always ended up roped in. Or on quieter days when Legolas had his lessons but they all just spent the day together, not doing anything in particular just all sharing the same space and Bard knew beyond doubt that they were a family, all six of them, and he wouldn’t change a thing.

“I want to take you all on holiday.” Thranduil mumbled sleepily, waking Bard from the soft sleep he had drifted into while nuzzling into Thranduil’s snowy neck.

“Where would we go?” Bard asked, not bothering to move his head so his lips were dragging on Thranduil’s skin as he spoke. “I wouldn’t want to hide.”

“I have a small château in France, we could go there.” He suggested, running his fingers delicately over Bard’s forearm. “Or we could visit my friend in Hertfordshire, Lord Elrond of Imladris, his home is very beautiful.”

“Wouldn’t we have to pretend we are not together? I do not want to go somewhere if I won’t be able to hold you and kiss you when I want.” Bard told him, kissing against his pulse point.

“It is hard to say. Lord Elrond would not care, but I cannot speak for the rest of his household.” Thranduil clarified, bearing his neck a little further.

“How can you be so sure that Lord Elrond would not mind?” Bard enquired, the notion of them being open about what they were around people he did not know or trust made him nervous.

“Because I happen to know he has been involved with one of his minstrels for a rather long time now.” Thranduil explained, bringing a hand up to tangle loosely in Bard’s moderately messy hair. “But of course I cannot say if the rest of his family is aware, a number of them live with him, and he always has guests, it is rather annoying.”

“You are very antisocial.” Bard chuckled, voice full of warmth as he smiled against Thranduil’s neck.

“No I’m not, I am just highly selective about who I like to spend my time with.” Thranduil countered playfully and the sentiment made Bard smile brighter, knowing that Thranduil liked to spend all day and all night with him if he could, and he pulled the most wonderful strops whenever Bard was doing anything with someone who was neither him nor the kids.

“Are you sure it would be a good idea to go there? If they were not accepting then they would not have to catch us to know that something was going on, it’s not exactly usual to bring your son’s tutor and his children with you on holiday.” Bard pointed out, stroking a hand over Thranduil’s clothed stomach.

“True, I had not really thought about that.” Thranduil sighed, sinking further into Bard, still sounding decidedly drowsy.

“Sorry, I know I am being a worry wart. Just, the thought of us getting caught. We’d be ruined.” Bard apologised, feeling like he was undermining Thranduil’s sweet idea to take them away for a while.

“Don’t apologise my love, you are right to remind me of these things. It is so easy here sometimes I almost forget, especially when I am half asleep.” Thranduil murmured, nudging his belly into Bard’s hand like a cat demanding he pet him (which he did happily of course). “We could all still go to my château though, if you wanted that is.”

“Of course I want to.” Bard replied, letting his lips dance back long that pale neck and the slight bit of creamy shoulder that was visible, some of Thranduil’s many layers having long since been shed, leaving the porcelain skin bare for Bard’s affectionate littering of kisses. “But what about the household staff over there?”

“There is only a housekeeper, she checks on the house while I am not there and readies it for me when I do come, but she does not live there. I usually would take some of the servants from here with me, Tauriel often enjoys the respite, but I think it might be fun to fend for ourselves for a couple of weeks.” Thranduil finished with a smile, turning his head and nosing at Bard’s face.

“And by fend for ourselves I’m sure you mean that I will be doing the cooking.” Bard teased, making Thranduil pout in indignation.

“I can cook.” Thranduil grumbled, his tone making it clear that he actually had absolutely no idea whatsoever how to cook a single thing, it made Bard chuckle.

“I am sure me and the kids will be able to keep you fed.” He reassured, planting a little kiss on the end of Thranduil’s nose. “I hate to think what would happen if you were let loose in the kitchen.” Bard teased, nibbling on Thranduil’s ear.

“Fine.” Thranduil relented surprisingly, Thranduil rarely relented in anything, Bard suspected that it had something to do with the way he was licking around the shell of Thranduil’s ear. “But I get to choose the wine, I can’t even imagine what your uncultured taste buds would think was an acceptable vintage for each meal.” Thranduil retorted, getting a chuckle out Bard at Thranduil’s usual sass despite his sleepy demeanour.

“Sounds fair.” Bard smiled because really, he had absolutely no clue what the distinctions between different wines were beyond white and red, and even then he had precisely no idea which one went with what kind of food.

“When do you want to go?” Thranduil asked, tucking his head down and into Bard’s neck, bringing his knees up and cuddling into Bard chest, Bard easily encircling him in his arms again.

“Whenever is best for you. You’re the only one who ever has to go anywhere.” Bard pointed out, because unfortunately, no matter how much Thranduil wanted to stay, he really did have to go off for various reasons occasionally, although he was rarely gone for a whole month now, and he spent more time at the Hall with them than he did away from it.

“Tomorrow?” Thranduil proposed completely seriously, it made Bard bark out a laugh and press a kiss to the top of his head.

“I think a little more warning might be nice.” Bard replied, knowing that there was not any chance that they could have themselves and four children ready to leave for France in less than twenty four hours.

“Hmm, you’re probably right. In a month or so then?” Thranduil decided, knocking his nose up against Bard’s jaw and drawing him into a lingering kiss.

“I must admit I am quite excited, and I imagine the children will be ecstatic. We have never been out of the country, we’ve barely been to the seaside.” Bard admitted, already imagining what it might be like in France in Thranduil’s château, what they might do there. He was trying not to seem like an excited child, although that was definitely exactly how he was feeling. “Thank you so much Thran, it’s going to be a lot of fun.”

“You don’t have to thank me.” Thranduil told him and Bard knew what Thranduil meant, that he would take Bard all over the word if he could, maybe one day he would. “When the children are older and have families of their own I am going to take you away again and have an entirely different kind of fun.” Thranduil added cheekily, catching Bard in another kiss, slipping his tongue into Bard’s mouth.

“Is that so?” Bard teased with a raised eyebrow. “Care to tell me what kind of fun would that be?”

“Better, I think I’ll show you.” Came the playful response as Thranduil started elegantly rearranging himself and turning around to straddle Bard’s waist.  

“Well this is very nice.” Bard grinned, nipping Thranduil’s pouty bottom lip.

“Mmm, I think it could be even nicer though.” Thranduil stated, that oh-so familiar twinkle in his eye that only meant one thing.

And sure enough Thranduil dove in for another, far filthier kiss that involved too much tongue and teeth – just the way Thranduil (and Bard if he was being honest) liked it – and he wasted no time in starting to roll his hips down into Bard purposefully.

“Thran, we can’t, not out here anyone could appear.” Bard protested half-heartedly. “Not outside.”

“I’m the only one who knows about this place.” Thranduil assured, winding one hand into Bard’s hair and Bard couldn’t help the way both of his ended up buried in that silken mane.

“You are wicked.” Bard gasped as Thranduil rolled his hips down, dragging his ass across Bard’s quickly filling cock, he was finding it particularly hard to resist given he’d been half hard most of the time they’d been out here exchanging lazy, intimate, little caresses.

“Mmmm.” Thranduil agreed, smirking as he snaked a hand between them and squeezed Bard through his breeches, making his breath catch and bite his lip.

Bard was just about to give in fully, when he heard a suspicious crashing through the trees and bushes and four distinct sets of childish laughter stumbling in what sounded worryingly like their direction.

“Shit that sounds like the kids. Get off.” Bard urged, Thranduil huffed but he must’ve just heard them too, because he stopped straddling Bard’s lap and instead turned and sunk back to his previous position between his legs with his back against his chest.

Sure enough, not one minute later four children came crashing into the clearing squealing with delight and looking suspiciously like they were on a sugar high. Tauriel was no doubt snickering to herself right now.    

“Ada! Da! See I _told_ you they’d be here, it’s ada’s favourite spot.” Legolas explained excitedly, practically vibrating out his skin, yes, definitely under the influence of sugar.

The kids didn’t waste a second before piling onto and around Bard and Thranduil, playfully shoving at Bard and Thranduil until they sat shoulder to shoulder and they could be piled on properly.

“Is there something we can do for you mischievous lot?” Bard asked, grabbing his hyperactive youngest daughter and tickling her, which admittedly didn’t calm her down, but her shrieks of laughter were just too funny to pass up.

She tried to wriggle away but was eventually saved by everyone else – including Thranduil – who decided to launch a counter attack on Bard until he released Tilda.

“I surrender! I surrender!” Bard cried out through his laughter, struggling to breath from the sudden onslaught of his whole family tickling him (Tilda definitely got her ticklishness from him).

They all clambered off him proclaiming their victory and Bard was slightly terrified by the sheer amount of energy they clearly needed to burn off. Thranduil scooped up Tilda from where he was sitting and pulled her in for a cuddle, she giggled, hiding in the safety of her ada, who was not tickling her and therefore her knight in shining armour, the man himself grinning smugly at Bard.

“So did you come and find us for any particular reason?” Thranduil inquired, and was promptly sat on by Legolas who looked up at him with his best cute face, and really the image of Thranduil with a small child on each side was an unbearably cute one.

“Will you guys please please please come play football with us? ‘Cause otherwise we don’t really have enough.” Legolas pleaded, golden head turning between Bard and Thranduil with his cutest look plastered on his face and really there was no chance of them being able to say no.

“Oh I suppose we can.” Thranduil replied with a seriously overdramatic sigh that made all the kids giggle.

The kids cheered and all ran off, presumably to the much flatter, less tree, bush and flower infested part of the gardens were they could play on relatively flat grass.

 “No one else knows about this spot?” Bard said pointedly and a little scoldingly, crossing his arms over his chest. Thranduil just laughed and kissed the frown off his face before they chased after the children, catching up easily, much to their delight.    

 

So it was another month later when the kids (and Bard) were vibrating with excitement, Bard was slowly packing his bags, ready for Thranduil to take them to France the next day, they were going to help the kids pack tomorrow morning before they left, god only knows what they would bring with them if they weren’t supervised.

The journey alone was a long one and they knew they were going to be away from the Hall for a while, and Tauriel looked practically ready to shoo them out the door herself, probably from having to deal with the excited anticipation from four children and Bard for the past few weeks.

Bard had no idea what he was supposed to take with him, Thranduil appeared to be taking his entire wardrobe with him which Bard was sure was completely excessive. But still, his own wardrobe obviously didn’t even come close to the size of Thranduil’s, even with all of the clothes Thranduil seemed to have buying him almost continually, so maybe he should be taking it all?

Bard didn’t have a clue, so he ended up packing away what he was absolutely sure was far too much before Thranduil came into their room and packed the rest of Bard’s clothes anyway.

“Thran I can’t possibly need all that.” Bard stated as Thranduil started tucking every item of clothing he owned into the suitcase, if he kept packing at this rate Bard was going to need a second bag just to transport it all. “Honestly I went through most of my life with about three outfits.” Bard pointed out.

“Yes well now you have more. And I like spoiling you and you like indulging me.” Thranduil countered, and he was of course correct, Bard rarely had it in him to say no to Thranduil, not that it ever turned out badly for him, quite the opposite most of the time in fact.   

So Bard just sat on the edge of the bed, watching with an amused expression as Thranduil regarded every item of clothing Bard had before inevitably deciding to pack it anyway.

“Even those?” Bard asked curiously when Thranduil packed Bard’s old clothes as well, the ones he had brought with him to Mirkwood.

“I like them.” Thranduil shrugged.

“They look out of place next to all the finery you’ve bought me.” Bard mused, he still wore his old clothes some of the time, despite all the lovely things Thranduil bought him, they were still his favourite sets of clothes, not that he could really explain why.

“And they’re your favourite as well, you wear them a lot, so of course we’re taking them.” Thranduil added simply, tucking them in next to the outfit of deep rich blue that Thranduil had purchased him a little while ago.

“Sorry.” Bard said a little awkwardly, feeling silly for still like his old shabby clothes when Thranduil bought him so many far nicer clothes.

“What on earth are you apologising for?” Thranduil asked, expression and tone bemused but undeniably fond.

“Well, you buy me all this finery, and I love it all it’s all so beautiful. But I still wear my old clothes the most.” Bard explained, still feeling a little awkward.

“My love, I would love you even in a potato sack if that was what you wanted to wear. I buy you nice things to wear because I like buying you nice things, not because I expect them to replace your old things.” Thranduil smiled, standing in front of Bard’s perch on the bed and bending down to kiss him gently. “In fact, I would be very disappointed if you stopped wearing your old clothes, like I said, I like them, they were what you were wearing when you knocked me off my horse.” He added cheekily.

“Hey! I did not knock you off your horse.” Bard protested, getting a grin out of Thranduil and another kiss before he straightened back up.

“Come on, I am bored of packing we can finish later.” Thranduil stated, and to be honest the packing was almost done so he allowed himself to be tugged off the bed.

They poked their heads in on each of the children to make sure that they were doing exactly what they themselves had just given up on, to find all four of them buzzing around shoving their stuff into bags in their respective rooms.

They ended up where they usually did in the evenings these days, cuddled together on the sofa in the dimly lit library, fire flickering in the hearth like it always was. Bard had intended to read, but apparently Thranduil thought that was taking away too much of Bard’s attention and plucked it out of Bard’s hands and discarded it with a grin. Bard scowled at him half-heartedly, because really, it was slightly too dark to read comfortably and it was difficult to be too annoyed when he had Thranduil curling up on his chest.

There was thunder soundly loudly outside and lightening lighting up the room in flashes, but luckily as storms were uncommonly common out here, the children had long since finished being scared by them, so they didn’t need to worry about scared children needing soothing.

Bard quite liked it, the mingling of the fire and the shocks of lightening glancing across Thranduil’s beautiful face. Bard drew him up for some slow kisses, no intention behind them other than just to kiss (although it wouldn’t exactly be unusual for Thranduil to change that after a while). But apparently this evening he was completely content to just lie against Bard’s chest and kiss him languidly.

Bard could so easily lose himself in Thranduil, it happened every day. He’d find himself just looking at him with a dopey smile on his face while he read or worked. And when he played with the children Bard felt like his heart was going to explode right out of his chest. And Thranduil would catch him looking at him, getting a little lost and he would just kiss him and tell Bard that he loved him before going back whatever he was doing.

He loved the ridiculous man so much. It should be terrifying all things considered, but Bard had never had less worries in his entire life.

They were both dozing softly, caught somewhere between asleep and awake, Bard rubbing gentle circles on Thranduil’s back and Thranduil tracing his fingers around Bard’s chest when there was a crash and some considerably loud shouting.

They both jolted awake properly, Bard’s arm slipping around Thranduil and pulling him into his chest protectively as the noise jerked them up to sitting.

“What the hell is that?” Bard asked, not that Thranduil knew of course, both of them looking confused and a little worried as the shouting died down but there was the sound of thunderous footsteps moving through the Hall.

“I don’t know but I’m going to tell whoever it is to get out of my home.” Thranduil replied. “I’ll be right back.” He said, not that Bard had any intention of not coming with him, and pressed a kiss to Bard’s lips.

But before Thranduil got up, before he’d even finished the quick kiss the door to the library was thrown open violently to reveal a furious looking man who Bard had never seen before, but by his reaction, Bard would bet Thranduil knew who he was.

Thranduil shot up from the sofa and kept Bard behind him when he stood as well, confused and terrified that they had just been found out. There was the unmistakable feeling of dread creeping its way up Bard’s stomach as he took in the livid figure in the doorway.

“I don’t believe it!” The man spat, fury and disgust mingling in his voice, but the moment he took one step towards them Thranduil’s posture grew aggressive.

“Take one more step and you will regret it Caranthir.” Thranduil growled, voice cold as ice and enough to stop the man, Caranthir, clearly sensing the very real threat there just as Bard did, but Caranthir looked no less livid.

“When I heard you had reached this new depth of depravity I could scarcely believe it. Yet here you are with another man. You’re degenerates! You’re sick!” Caranthir threw the abuse at them, and Bard really was getting scared now, there was no way this man was going to keep it quiet, he was looking at them with such unbridled revulsion it was making Bard’s stomach turn.

“Caranthir, you will get out of my home this second.” Thranduil grit out, taking a dangerous step forward, Bard was panicking, what did it matter if he left? All he needed to do was report them.

“This is going to ruin you. I will make sure you are ruined after this!” Caranthir yelled, and it sounded like a promise.

“Caranthir. You will get out of my house. You will not be telling anyone of anything you discovered here today or there. Will. Be. Consequences.” Thranduil returned, his tone was deadly and icy and Bard felt his words were supposed to carry some kind of meaning he didn’t understand, because he couldn’t fathom what Thranduil meant by consequences but he had sounded serious.

Caranthir didn’t seem put off by Thranduil’s chilling tone, too lost in his own tirade of hateful slurs to worry about what Thranduil was saying at all. And why should he worry? He was not the one who was going to be ruined, he was not the one who had built up a false sense of security that was now crumbing around him.

“You couldn’t draw the line at having an adulterous affair, no, the perversions of Thranduil Oropherion know no limits I see, lying with a man! You disgust me, you are a disgrace to your rank!” As he threw his insults, Thranduil froze in front of Bard, looking truly scared for the first time since Caranthir barged in.

“What?” Bard broke in confused, looking to Thranduil for an answer but being met only with his frozen, panicked look, white as a sheet. _Adulterous?_

Caranthir gave him a pitying but no less disgusted look as he sneered at him.

“Did he neglect to tell his whore that he is married?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caranthir is our other random Tolkien elf cameo, again, I'm sure he wasn't a douche for his brief time in Tolkien canon, but I needed him to be a douche, so he is


	8. Chapter 8

 

“Thran what’s he talking about?” Bard asked, voice cautious, it couldn’t be true…could it?

He wanted Thranduil to answer him, to be outraged at the very suggestion, to tell Bard that Caranthir was lying, that there was absolutely nothing to the accusation.

Instead Thranduil just looked at him helplessly, pleadingly, and the bottom of Bard’s world dropped out from under him.

“Oh my god.” Bard gasped, backing away from Thranduil, his silence had said enough, it had said it all. “Where is she?” Bard demanded, how was it possible he hadn’t come across her in all his time here.

“I am assured my sister is kept shut off from the rest of the house in a tower.” Caranthir snarled out and realisation hit Bard like a kick to the chest.

“That’s why I’m not allowed in the upper left wing isn’t it.” Bard whispered, and when Thranduil still didn’t speak he shouted. “Isn’t it!”

His raised voice startled Thranduil into action, he started to come towards Bard but he stopped almost as soon as he had started, knowing how unwelcome he would be in Bard’s space, his panicked expression didn’t change.

“It’s not what it sounds like Bard. It’s not what you think.” Thranduil entreated scraping a hand though his silvery hair, looking like he wanted to reach out for Bard but knew that he shouldn’t.

“So you’re not married?” Bard challenged, even though by now he knew the answer, watching as Thranduil visibly struggled for an answer.

“It’s not that simple, Bard I– ” Thranduil tried desperately but Bard cut him off.

“So you haven’t been lying to me the whole time?” Bard threw back, getting angry because he did not want to cry, not here not in front of Thranduil and Caranthir.

“Bard you have to listen to me it’s not like– ” Thranduil pleaded, but when he moved towards Bard he shoved him back, shocking Thranduil into stumbling from the force of his push, using every ounce of his self-control not to cry, he knew that if Thranduil got his arms around him he would cry, he would collapse into his arms and Bard _couldn’t_ allow himself to do that right now.

The suddenness of the push and the hurt and anger he found in Bard’s eyes must have steeled something in Thranduil because a cold veil fell over his face and he fixed Caranthir with an icy glare, but still the unwelcome man continued his remarks.

“If it wasn’t so sickening I would almost feel sorry for you.” Caranthir laughed cruelly, derision dripping from his tone as he glared at Bard before he turned to Thranduil with hatred in his eyes. “As it stands I am more concerned for my sister, locked in a room.” Bard flinched at the words, the knowledge that Thranduil could _do_ something like that.

“How could you do something like that?” Bard cried, disbelief colouring his voice, Thranduil was many things and there were even more rumours about him, but still, Bard had never ever seen him to be cruel enough to even consider that he might do something like that.

“You believe I would do something like that?” Thranduil whispered, hurt colouring his voice, but he was not the one who had any right to be hurt right now. “It is not as simple as he would have you believe.”

“So your wife is not locked in a tower, a place you _specifically_ banned me from going? Were you worried I would find out your secret, that I wouldn’t lie back for you anymore if I did?” Bard spat, he could feeling bile in his throat, his stomach rolling.

“Do you want to meet my wife Bard?” Thranduil asked but it wasn’t a question, his voice had gone cold and he was already storming out of the room, Bard didn’t know if he wanted to follow, but his feet took him anyway.

Thranduil strode through the halls with a frightening, intimidating elegance, and Bard had to move quickly to keep up. His gut churned as they made their way up to the upper left wing, the only part of the house he had not ever seen, it was more rundown than the rest of the building, like no one cared for it properly, the wood seemed mouldy, the windows were smaller, the floorboards creaked louder, the walls were damp. It was eerie.

It was almost like no one bothered to ever look after this part of the house, then Bard realised that that was probably the case. The rest of the Hall was mysterious and held some kind of air to it, but it was light, especially these days, and it was well kept and a beautiful place. It had become home, it used to feel like home, be home. Now it all felt foreign and unwelcome, like the whole house was mocking him.

When they reached the top of a tightly spiralled staircase, Bard saw Feren shoot up from a stool next to a large locked door, looking at them confused.

“How is she today?” Thranduil demanded from him, fixing him with a look so icy it would freeze fire.

“S-she’s, well s-she’s her? It is not one of her better days but it’s not one of her worse ones either. What’s happening?” Feren asked, eyeing Bard and Caranthir with confusion and Thranduil nervously, clearly intimidated.

“Fine. And do not think that I do not know that it was you who sent this filth a letter.” Thranduil said, voice frozen and cutting, Feren paled as he spoke. “I expect your bags packed and you out of the Hall before the end of the day.”

“No!” Bard almost growled, grabbing Thranduil’s arm and wrenching him around out of a frightened Feren’s face, much to both Feren and Thranduil’s surprise. “No. You don’t get to punish him simply for revealing the truth. For refusing to cover up your lies! You don’t get to be cruel to him when the only person here that has done wrong is you.”   

“He didn’t do it because he didn’t like my _lies._ Bard you are not this naive, he did it because he doesn’t like you, he’s hated you for months and you’ve known it.”

“I think that if my job was to care for your wife, your _locked up_ wife, then I think I might hate anyone in my position as well.” Bard threw back seething, he could only imagine the compassion Feren must have for her by now if he cared for her, was the sole person she saw, and had to keep her away like this. No, Feren was not the person to blame here.

“You want to see why I keep my wife ‘locked up’?” Thranduil stated cold and rhetorical, as he threw open the door, Bard gasped at what he saw.

The room was large and utterly ruined. Furniture lay overturned, doors had been torn off the wardrobes and lay discarded and shattered on the floor, clothes and trinkets were strewn around the room. The drapes around the large bed were ripped and hung in tatters, the windows were barred, the cushions on the bed had been torn open and a wild mess of feathers spread out from the bed.

And at the centre of it sat a woman, she had a deranged, manic look in her eye, and when she saw them in the doorway, she laughed.

Bard knew that laugh, it had haunted him ever since he had arrived. Disturbed laughter as she threw her head back and the almost inhuman sound tore itself from her throat again.

She fixed her eyes on Bard, then on Thranduil, and suddenly she sprung from the bed and lunged, but she didn’t seem to know if she was aiming at Bard or Thranduil even as hatred glowed fierce from her eyes.

Thranduil caught her around the middle, pining her arms down with his much stronger ones. He mumbled something to her that Bard couldn’t hear and she sagged ever so slightly in his arms, but it only lasted a second before she was clawing at Thranduil again with such venom that it scared Bard.

“This is my wife.” Thranduil said coldly as he restrained her from trying to bite and scratch him.

Bard ran away.

He turned and he ran because this was not simple. This was so far from simple.

He almost tripped as he ran down the unfamiliar spiralled steps, he could hear Thranduil desperately calling after him but he did not turn, he did not even slow down, he needed to get away.

Why couldn’t it be simple? Why couldn’t Thranduil just be a liar? A tyrant who locked his wife away from the world and manipulated Bard to get what he wanted? That would be simple at least, that would not leave Bard so confused.

Because Thranduil was married, he had a wife, but these were no normal circumstances. Because Bard knew, he _knew_ that Thranduil could so easily have sent her away to an asylum, terminating the marriage because of her insanity. He knew this just as clearly as he knew that Thranduil would never do that, because he knew what those places were like, and Thranduil could never condemn someone so vulnerable, so helpless in every way that mattered, to one of those places.

But why had he lied? Did he think that Bard wouldn’t have understood? It wasn’t like they were ever going to be able to get married, _why_ couldn’t Thranduil have just told him? Bard would have understood.

Maybe he loved her once, maybe in a strange way he still did, maybe he barely spared her a thought other than to know that it was at least not him who threw her into an asylum. Maybe he did not consider her to be his wife, after all, Lady Idrill and the other people he had brought back with him before clearly had no idea that Thranduil was married. Maybe no one knew, maybe it was only the tenants of this house that were aware that Mr Oropherion was in fact not a bachelor after all.

Bard didn’t know. He didn’t know what had happened or what the situation was or why Thranduil didn’t tell him. He could feel the walls closing in around him, he felt like he was suffocating in a place that had just an hour ago felt like home, like the only home he would ever need again. Now he felt like the air was oppressive and the place was filled with lies and they had never, not ever, really been a part of the house. They had never been privy to its secrets or Thranduil’s confidence.

He needed to get away.

He needed to leave.

Bard was heading to his children’s rooms without much conscious thought, his feet taking him where he needed to go. But as he turned a corner a hand caught his arm and he was tugged around to meet Tauriel’s desperate face.

“Bard I am so sorry. Please you have to forgive me. I wanted to tell you, so many times I nearly did but, but I knew that if he lost you he would have kicked out whoever was responsible, I couldn’t risk it, this place is all I have.” She practically begged, but Bard didn’t blame her, she was not the person who deserved blame.

“It is okay Tauriel. Please, let go of me.” Bard said, his voice sounded distant and lost even to his own ears.

“I tried to get him to tell you, I promise you I tried.” She continued, still gripping Bard’s arm, and Bard believed her, after all, what was the point in lying now.

“I do not blame you, let me go.” Bard replied, tone clipped, he needed to get out of here, Tauriel was slowing him down,, making it more likely that Thranduil would catch up to him, not that he was quite sure how likely it was that he was going to be able to leave without him finding them first.

“Where are you going?” Tauriel asked, tone filled with concern.

“I am getting my children and I am leaving.” Bard answered, he wanted her to let go, why couldn’t she see that Bard _needed_ to leave. But Bard suspected she did see that, she just didn’t want to let him go.

“It is the dead of night! There is a storm outside!” Tauriel protested, but Bard already knew that, he knew that and he didn’t care. They would get to town, some of the inns stayed open all through the night, someone would take them in for the night. Then the next day they would get out of the area entirely. He would not look back.

“I do not care. I need to leave. Please, get off me.” Bard said and this time when he tugged her arm she let it go, racing off down the hall with an expression he could not read. Bard did not know where she was going, he only hoped that it wasn’t straight to Thranduil, he didn’t want to talk to him.

He headed along the corridors to his children’s rooms as fast as he could, he didn’t even want to think what he must look like, half mad and frantic he had no doubt. He was surprised that the entire house hadn’t woken from all the shouting. But then they were English, they had probably just stayed in their beds eavesdropping where they could rather than getting directly involved.

He slipped into Sigrid’s room first, tapping on the door loud enough to wake her, checking she was decent before going in.

“Da? What is it?” She asked, bleary eyed and sleepy, he wished they could stay, he wished he could leave her this happy and this content, more worry free than he had ever seen his eldest. She must have seen something in his expression because the next moment she was up and alert and her voice was full of unease. “What’s happened?”

“We need to leave, please, I’m sorry I just, Thranduil has been lying I need to leave I need you guys to come with me I can’t go without you, I promise I’ll explain but we need to leave.” Bard told her frantically, unable to really form much of a coherent thought.

He knew he wasn’t really making sense, that this was completely out of the blue, that as far as Sigrid – and indeed Bard – had known before she went to bed they were currently living on cloud nine and had never been happier, now he was in her room in the middle of the night telling her they needed to leave right now. But she didn’t question him, she was already pulling down her suitcase, she must have seen the look of pure relief on his face mixed in with his general devastation, because within seconds she was hugging him as tight as her still small frame would allow. It was so easy to forget she was only fourteen, he felt terrible all over again, he was going to take her childhood away from her again when she had only just managed to start to get it back.

“Whatever it is, whatever’s happened, we’re on your side da.” She told him firmly, Bard dropped to his knees and scooped her up in an even bigger hug, pretending that his lip wasn’t shaking and that he wasn’t so precariously about to lose control of his tears. He needed to stay strong, just a little longer, just until they were out of this place.

“I need you to help Tilda pack her things, she isn’t going to be happy, and I need to get my stuff out of our– out of the bedroom.” Bard explained, the thought of anything being ‘theirs’ making him feel sick, making him feel the sharpness of the hurt that was cutting through his heart.

He needed to stay strong, just a little longer.

“Okay da, get Bain, we’ll both help with Tilda while you get your things.” Sigrid replied, as she threw her things into her suitcase. She wasn’t packing anything Thranduil had ever given her. He knew how this must be affecting her, he felt like a terrible father.

“I’m so sorry darlin’, I don’t want you to lose your home but I, I just, _I_ _can’t_.” Bard pleaded, knowing it wasn’t a good enough explanation, but right now it was all he had, he had arms full of Sigrid again before he could blink, this was a fierce hug, the kind she gave people when she was forcing them to believe something, he’d seen her give them to Bain and Tilda before.

“You’re my home. You’re my dad. And you haven’t failed to keep me safe yet.” She told him with such conviction and reminding him so much of her mother than Bard couldn’t help the way he finally started to cry, a few tears fighting their way through his defences and wetting her hair.

He forced them back and let go of his daughter, smiling at her as best he could, in a way that he hoped told her everything, how grateful he was to her, a promise to make it up to her even though she would insist that there was nothing to make up for.

He left her room, moving past Tilda’s door to wake Bain first, this was taking too long, he was surprised Thranduil hadn’t appeared yet, but then it probably wasn’t easy to subdue a deranged woman.

He entered Bain’s room and his son was giving him a confused, sleepy look, but it didn’t take him long to see the state of Bard – and the fact it was the middle of the night – to know that something was wrong.

“We need to leave. I, I need us to leave.” Bard said desperately, and apparently, that was enough. Bain was out of bed and packing his case without question. “I promise I will explain when I can, where there’s some space between us and here.”

“It’s okay da, I trust you.” Bain replied, forcing a smile, Bard knew he didn’t want to leave, that he wanted to know why they were leaving in the middle of the night, but still he did not ask, he packed his case and trusted that Bard would tell him when he could.

Bard had no idea what he had done to deserve his kids, he didn’t know how he would ever get through something like this if he was forced to do it alone.

Bain packed in record time, like Sigrid he had made a point of not packing anything Thranduil had bought him, even though some of them were his favourite things. Bard would never begrudge them those things if they wanted them, he would never tell them that they had to leave them. They left them of their own accord, they knew something had happened and they were on his side, Bard wasn’t sure how he managed to keep himself from crying, half from the relief his children were bringing him, half from despair.

All three of them slipped into Tilda’s room, Bard sat on the side of her bed and gently woke her.

“Da?” She asked confused, voice heavy with sleep as she rubbed at her eyes.

“Hey darlin’.” Bard gulped, knowing she was not going to like this. “I need you to pack your things, we need to leave.”

“No!” She shouted immediately, burying herself under the covers, holding onto them with her little hands as tightly as she could, Bard hated himself as he peeled the back and out of her grip.

“Please Til, we need to go.” Bard said again, he could hear his voice shaking slightly.

“No we can’t leave. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave ada and Legolas I don’t want to leave home! We can’t go.” She cried, looking so small in the big bed she now slept in, so scared that she was about to be forced to leave the place she called home.

Bard winced when she called Thranduil ada, he wondered how long it would take her to stop calling Thranduil that, how long it would take her to stop talking about him altogether.

Bard’s heart broke again when she forced him to think of Legolas. God how he would take him with him if he could, but he was not his child, no matter what he felt like, no matter if Legolas called him da, it would be kidnapping. The thought of abandoning Legolas – because that was surely how the boy was going to see it – was almost enough to make him stay. But he just _couldn’t_. He wouldn’t do that to himself. It would kill him.

He would give anything to be able to take Legolas with him, but he couldn’t.

Too many people were getting hurt, but he didn’t know how to stay. He hated the waves of guilt that crashed over him as he tried to coax Tilda out of bed and when he thought of Legolas. He felt sick. He wanted to collapse in a corner and sob.

“We have to Tilda, please.” Bard implored her, she was too young, she didn’t understand.

“We can’t!” She wailed again. “You’ve never been happy ‘fore! Not really. Ada makes you happy we should stay.”

Her words caught him off-guard, he scooped her straight into his arms and she cried into his messy hair as he rocked her gently.

“Ada doesn’t make me happy anymore Til.” Bard breathed quietly, voice thick with unshed tears. He had no idea how he was holding them back.

Tilda squeezed him tighter and cried louder for a little while until she calmed down a little. She climbed off him and Sigrid held her hand as his three kids started collecting her things and packing them into Sigrid’s case, his eldest nodding at him that he should go get his stuff quickly.

To get to their room – Thranduil’s room – Bard had to pass Legolas’, he faltered outside the door. He had no idea if he should wake him. If saying goodbye would be worse than just being gone. When Thranduil had left without a word it had been worse. But Thranduil had always been coming back.

Bard wasn’t coming back.

Bard feared that if he told Legolas he was leaving he would try to come with him, he was terrified that would be more traumatic for the boy, Bard telling him he could not come rather than just being gone.

He didn’t know which was worse. He had no idea what to do.

He hurried to his room and quickly snatched up some paper and a pen. He wrote Legolas a letter, he knew it would not be enough, but it would be something. He left it on the desk, he didn’t have to worry about Thranduil not giving it to Legolas, he knew he would.

Bard was halfway through unpacking the things he had packed for the holiday, finding his old things in the new suitcase Thranduil had bought him and shoving them in his old battered case, leaving everything Thranduil had bought him just like his children had, when he heard a broken sound from the doorway.

“Please don’t leave.” Thranduil’s voice was broken, barely a whisper, like not even in his most horrible nightmares had he considered that Bard could leave, that he would leave.

Bard didn’t say anything, he didn’t turn around. He just swallowed around the lump in his throat and continued to pack silently.

“Will you let me explain? Will you listen?” Thranduil pleaded, Bard refused to respond again. He heart was screaming, it was bawling _yes! Yes! Explain, make it all go away_. Bard stayed silent, he didn’t want to say that, he was scared about what he might say if he opened his mouth.

He kept his back turned, he didn’t want to let Thranduil see the tears that were tracking down his face.

“When I was younger I travelled a lot. I met her, a well-to-do young woman. I didn’t love her, though I think I could have, she was a friend, my friend and I didn’t have many. My father died very suddenly, and I was thrust into his old position, I had no idea what to do, only that I was out of my depth. It had been a five or six years since I had seen her but her brother contacted me so quickly. So ready with his condolences. He suggested I marry his sister, after all, she was suitable, rich, her name not as old or important as mine, but she was my friend, I knew her, I liked her. So I said yes.

“Caranthir had us married in under a fortnight, he said it would be easier than fighting off the vultures that would be sure to try and beguile me with their false charms. I believed him, my father had just died and I thought he was my friend. He was the only witness at the wedding – if you could even call it that – it was done at his home, quietly without circumstance. I should have known something was wrong then.

“I had barely had a chance to see her before the ceremony, Caranthir had made sure of that. But his excuses had always seemed to plausible to my naive ears and I felt so alone. I knew something was not right before we had even finished the long trip home. She was going mad, the doctors still do not know exactly what ails her, only that she is deranged. Before the week was up I knew she had become violent in the years I hadn’t seen her, and she thought me her captor but she also knew I was her husband. She had forgotten that I had been her friend. Almost every time I try to see her she attacks me, she hates me so. I grew to resent her for what she stopped me from having, a family, companionship, all of it. Even though I know that is unfair that it was not her doing.”   

“Maybe if you didn’t lock her up she wouldn’t feel such hatred for you.” Bard croaked, his voice wasn’t working properly, Thranduil probably knew he was crying, Thranduil knew everything there was to know about him, he was not the one with the secrets.

“Do you know what happens when she isn’t locked up? When someone fails to keep her in her room? Fires start in the house, like that one you pulled me from, she started that and it was not her first attempt on my life. Nor do I doubt it will be her last.

“But I will not send her to an asylum, I could not do that I know what happens in those places and I would not wish that on anyone. I cannot divorce her because she will immediately be thrown in an asylum when she is out of my care, I cannot escape her. Can you blame me for locking her up?” Thranduil implored.

“No.” Bard admitted quietly as he reached for more of his clothes. “But I can blame you for not telling me. For– for lying.”

Bard’s heart felt shattered, he doubted he would ever be able to fully put it back together again after this. It only made it worse that Thranduil had kept her safe by keeping her locked away. That he had been tricked into this unhappy union but was not cold enough to throw his old friend into an asylum, even when she tried to kill him.

It made it hurt more because it meant he couldn’t call Thranduil a monster, not when he was so compassionate. The worst he could call him was a liar. It was enough for him to leave, the prolonged deceit, Thranduil had broken his heart, he could not stay. But he would never be able to remember him as a tyrant to soften the blow of leaving, because Thranduil was a lot of things but he still wasn’t cruel. And that made it so much worse.

He needed to leave.

As he continued to gather the rest of his possessions, Thranduil spoke again, he sounded desperate, like he was breaking. But he had already broken Bard.

“Please stay Bard, I would have told you, when the time was right.” Thranduil pleaded, but it was just another lie. He never would have told Bard, not if he could have avoided it.

 “When? Thranduil when were you going to tell me?” Bard demanded in a broken whisper, he was shaking, he was crying freely now as he finally turned to face Thranduil. “I’ve been here for a year. Were you going to wait another year? Five? Ten? Fifty? Or were you just going to tell me after you finally had your fill of me?” Bard choked out, sobs wracking through his body.

“No Bard you have to believe me I love you. I will love you forever I never want you to leave. How can you say I would discard you like that?! I will never have had my fill, you are my life, Bard please.” Thranduil begged, voice cracking, tears streaking down his cheeks. Bard was glad he kept his distance, he feared that if he felt those arms around him his resolve would shatter, he would stay when he _needed_ to leave.

It was too much.

“Then why did you lie?” Bard cried, voice almost inaudible.

“Because I was scared. You scare me, you always have. And then it was too late, I wanted you and no one else, but I had already lied to you. I had no idea how to tell you. I was so terrified that you would leave me. God, please don’t go, I don’t know what I’ll do.” Thranduil was crying openly, Bard could barely look at him, seeing him cry made him want to hold him and kiss him and he couldn’t do that right now because he was leaving. He had to, he needed to.

“If you had told me, I wouldn’t have left.” Bard told him, voice quiet and shaky, suitcase in hand, tears rolling down his face freely.

A desperate sound tore itself out of Thranduil’s throat, a hand was trying to tug his suitcase out of his hand but Bard held onto it, even as Thranduil begged and pleaded and sobbed for him to stay. He couldn’t even look at Thranduil, he was breaking his heart even now, even when he thought there was nothing left to break. They were breaking each other.

Bard needed time, he needed space, he desperately needed to not be here.

“C-can you give this to Legolas?” Bard asked, voice cracking even more as he pushed the envelope into Thranduil’s chest, Thranduil caught his hands, trapped them against his heart with his own elegant hands.

“Stay Bard please I need you to stay I can’t lose you. Please I need you. I love you! You can’t go, please don’t go.” Thranduil begged, face stricken and wet, Bard looked at the floor and pulled his hand away.

He could hear the sob Thranduil made behind him when he saw Bard’s children waiting for him, bags packed, Bain carrying Tilda, all of them refusing to look at Thranduil. He hated it. He had no idea if he was doing the right thing. He just knew he needed to leave.

 Thranduil followed them through the house, occasionally he helplessly reached for Bard hand, each time he gently pulled his hand free, he couldn’t fight anymore, they were both crying. Thranduil didn’t stop begging him not to go, but he stopped trying to take his hand, Bard was grateful, it almost made him stop. He kept going.

They reached the door, Bard paused and turned to Thranduil, he opened his mouth but he didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything, he turned and they left.

The storm was loud and the rain was almost horizontal the wind was howling. But he could still hear Thranduil’s voice, clear as if it was spoken directly into his ear.

“Please. I-I love you.”

_I love you too_

Bard pressed on, he needed to leave, he needed to keep going there wasn’t anything he would, could, stop for now.

“Da!”

Except that.

Except the sound of Legolas shrieking his name.

Bard dropped his bag and turned, falling to his knees just in time to catch Legolas in his arms as he crashed into him.

“Let me come with you I want to come with you! Don’t go! I want you to come back will you come back? Don’t leave me.” Legolas bawled into Bard’s chest, holding onto him so tight Bard thought his old thin shit might rip, might rip apart just like his heart was.

“I’m so sorry darlin’. I don’t want to go but I need to.” Bard held him tight, squeezing him as tight as he could, praying that he would believe how much he loved him even though he was leaving. His knees were getting muddy and wet on the ground but he didn’t care, he would’ve sat there holding Legolas forever if he could, he would never be leaving him if he could, but he _needed_ to.

“No! You’re my da, we’re a family.” Legolas wailed and Bard was crying loudly too as well, he couldn’t believe he was doing this, that he was leaving him. He felt disgusting.

“I’m going to miss you so much.” Bard gasped into Legolas’ soft, now wet, blonde hair, it only made him cry harder, hold on tighter.

Three more sets of arms were wrapped around them as Bard’s own children came to cry their goodbyes, they were losing friends – no, they were losing a father and a brother.

“No don’t miss me I want to go with you.” Legolas shouted, Bard felt like he was going to be sick. He wanted to take Legolas with him, but he would never take him away from Thranduil even if he could. Thranduil was a liar. But he was also a damn great father who loved his son more than anything else in the world.

Legolas would be okay without him, he would forget him eventually, he would never be okay without his father.

“You can’t, I wish you could but you can’t.” Bard cried, standing up holding Legolas to him, Thranduil was stood only a few paces away, he had stopped crying, but he looked distraught, a ghost of the man Bard had come to recognise.

He wished he didn’t have to leave. He wished he felt he could stay forever.

He wished Thranduil hadn’t been lying to him.

“No. Please.” Came Legolas’ desperate little voice, he knew Bard was walking to Thranduil, even though he wasn’t looking at him.

“I will write you letters, I promise.” And he really meant it, he would, he would write him every week, every day if he could.

Legolas shouted and cried as Bard pried him off of him and forced him kicking and screaming into Thranduil’s arms, Thranduil just let Legolas hit him. He looked like a phantom, so pale and so lost and so broken.

“I hate you. I hate you let go of me. Let me go with da, I want to go. What did you do! You did something you made him leave. I’ll never forgive you.” Legolas’ desperate, angry, crying voice screamed at Thranduil and followed his voice followed Bard as he walked away.

He almost went back, but Sigrid took his hand and pulled him away.

They left.

The storm that Bard had considered a welcome envelopment in the safety of the library not one hour ago was now cold and harsh and frightening as Bard and his children pressed on up the road, not entirely sure where they were headed. They would get to town as fast as possible, use what money they had to find a warm place to stay, Bard didn’t know after that. They would just keep going until they found something.

Bard felt like he was running away and dragging his children with him. He couldn’t help it.  He needed to run.

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

They were not even all the way up the entrance road to the Hall when Bard wondered if they would need to go back. He didn’t want to, but his children were already shivering and it was a considerable walk to town and he wasn’t about to make them ill.

They could stay until the storm passed.

Bard knew if he went back he would probably never be able to make himself leave again.

But at this rate his children were going to catch their death although they’d never say, especially after Bard had so desperately had them packed and ready to leave, they’d never ask him to go back after that, no matter how cold and wet and tired they were.

Bard stopped walking and heaved a sigh, they needed to go back, he couldn’t make his kids walk through this freezing storm in the middle of the night, it was not fair.

“Da?” Sigrid asked when he stopped walking, having to raise her voice to shout above the clamour of the howling wind and bracing storm.

He was about to answer but he could hear horses and a carriage close behind them, so instead he just got them out of the way. Bard didn’t know if he expected it to be Thranduil or not, the carriage had clearly come from the Hall, there was nowhere else for it to have come from. They would get in and go back, it would be the hardest thing he had ever done, but he would force himself to find the strength to leave again in the morning.

Someone Bard definitely didn’t expect was Tauriel to be sat in the carriage guiding the horses.

“Get in before you freeze to death.” She ordered, and Bard quickly hoisted Tilda into the cover of the carriage and helped Bain and Sigrid to get in without slipping before turning back to Tauriel.

“Thanks. I had just decided we were going to have to go back anyway.” Bard sighed.

“I wasn’t going to take you back, I was going to take you into town. Unless you want to go back of course.”

“Town, please.” Tauriel nodded a little sadly but completely understandingly and Bard climbed into the carriage with his shivering children, they probably wouldn’t really warm up until they were in a warm inn, but at least now they weren’t getting even colder, and it shouldn’t take long for them to get there.

The roads were muddy but the Hall’s formidable horses and strong carriages had always been able to deal with it, the carriage jolted and bumped over the uneven terrain, Bard felt like he could feel the rattle in his bones, he was numb from the cold he was just numb at the moment. He knew it would kick in soon, the hurt and the loss and the heartbreak and he would have to deal with it, but right now he felt numb, and he was glad for it.

He doubted he was going to see Tauriel anytime soon, or indeed ever again, so Bard manoeuvred himself around to sit beside Tauriel. He wasn’t sure what to say, what he wanted to say or if he even wanted to say anything at all so for a while they just sat next to each other.

“Will you make sure Legolas gets the letters I send?” Bard asked after a while although he was sure Thranduil would give them to him, he was not cruel enough to withhold them, least of all from his son.

“Every single one.” Tauriel assured without a pause, giving Bard’s hand a friendly squeeze to try and offer comfort, but there was not much comfort for Bard at the moment.

“Thank you.” Bard replied quietly, it was something to hold on to at least, he couldn’t bear it if Legolas thought he had abandoned him on a whim, what he wouldn’t give to have him here with him.

What he wouldn’t give to have Thranduil here with him.

Why did he have to lie?

“Bard I’m so so– ”

“Tauriel, don’t. I understand why you couldn’t tell me. And I- I just really can’t talk about it yet. It’s too fresh.”

“Bard he is sorry I promise you, he– ”

“Please, don’t. Not while I’m trying to leave.” Bard cut her off again, he really wasn’t in the right place to do this now, he needed more time before he could start to even think about it all, he couldn’t do that here, with it all so in his face, so easy to just run back to.

“You will always have a home here Bard, you and the children, you must know that.”

“I do.”

Bard even knew that if things got really bad, if he was that short of money and their situation was dire, that he could send the children back to him even if he didn’t feel he could go himself. He did not doubt that Thranduil would look after them and love them as if they were his own. He just didn’t know if he would ever be able to go back.

As Mirkwood Hall faded into the distance and out of sight Bard rested his head against the frame of the carriage and closed his eyes, willing himself not to cry, not until he was alone and wouldn’t be seen, not until his children wouldn’t hear. He hated that they had already seen him like that, he just hadn’t been able to hold it back, but now he had to be strong for them, he’d pulled them out of the home they had come to know and now it was his job to look after them alone again.

And he hadn’t failed yet, they’d been on their own before. But it wasn’t so easy this time, this time they were giving up so much more, they weren’t just moving on. They were giving up a home like which they had not had for years (and never had had in such luxury), they were giving up safety and security and friends, the children were giving up a brother and a father, Bard was giving up a lover and a son.

It was not fair.

They sat in silence for the rest of the journey, Tauriel clearly not wanting to push when Bard had asked her not to. He would miss Tauriel, he would miss a lot of the people he worked with, they had become his friends and that was something he had not really had in a while.

He had no idea where there current path would lead, he had no destination in mind other than away, they just needed to get away. He needed space before he could even think about things.

As Tauriel slowed the horses to a stop outside an inn, Bard quickly hopped out and helped his children out, reaching for their belongings, keen to get out of the storm.

“Thank you Tauriel. I will miss you.” Bard bid his friend goodbye, hoping he would get the chance to see her again someday.

“He loves you.” She said after a pause.

“I love him too.” Bard told her, then he turned and walked away.  

 

They squeezed into one room at the inn, not what they had come to be used to, but better off than they had been in the past. Bard had enough money for a while, his salary from tutoring Legolas had been building for months and months, ever since Bard had taken to gifting Bard and the children with anything and everything they could possibly need or want. But still, he was reluctant to spend more than absolutely necessary when he had no idea how long it would be until he would find somewhere new for them, somewhere he could work.

None of them had brought anything Thranduil had given them with them. Not even Tilda. A couple of months ago Thranduil had brought her home a doll, not particularly special in the grand scheme of all the things he had brought her in the past, except for how completely Tilda had loved it. She took it everywhere with her, it had made Thranduil smile so brightly seeing her cherish it so much, knowing he had gotten it for her as she had it tucked under her arm wherever she went.

Tilda had left it on the bed. Bard hadn’t asked her to, he knew Bain and Sigrid wouldn’t have mentioned it either. She was only six and she was being forced away from her ada, he wasn’t going to make her leave that as well, Bard would never have asked. But the last thing Tilda had done had been to carefully put the doll on the end of her bed and leave it behind.

He knew he should talk to them about it, that he owed his children that much, it wasn’t just his own life he was uprooting, they deserved to know why. And he would tell them, but at the moment the three of them were squished together on the room’s bed, all pretending to be asleep, even though Bard knew that none of them were.

Instead he sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to get comfortable in the lumpy armchair, their wet clothes were spread about the room drying, and hopefully they would be dry by the morning and easy to pack into their bags. Bard knew they would head to the train station but he was still had no idea where they were going, it almost didn’t matter, maybe he’d let one of the kids chose, let them look at the train timetable and pick a random one, go wherever it takes them.

And that is exactly what they did, Tilda picked a random train, they bought their tickets, and off they went. He’d like to say they didn’t look behind them, but he knew that each of them did.

The first place they came to was a beautiful little town. They wandered around it for the day, bags in tow as Bard asked around about work, for there was no point in finding accommodation if there was no work. He preferred to teach, he always asked about that first, but he was strong and perfectly able to do hard labour as well. But unfortunately the little town had no work available, so this time Sigrid picked a train and off they went.

Their second destination turned out to be a fairly standard mid-sized town, it wasn’t beautiful or captivating or tranquil, it was just a town as you would expect, it would do. But much of the time it was even harder to find work in these towns, unless a school or rich aristocrat was coincidentally looking for a tutor then Bard would not find work here. He should probably try and learn a new trade, so that it would be easier to find work but he had no means to learn. No one wished to take on an apprentice unless they were young and an apprenticeship wouldn’t feed clothe and house Bard and three children either. It was difficult because he had never even worked on a farm, so although he knew he would pick it up quickly, he was a capable an hardworking person by nature, no one wanted to take on a farm hand who didn’t know how to do anything when there were others who did also looking for work.

The next place they came to was a city but it was loud and clamouring and they didn’t like it at all, far too used to the quiet of the countryside to be able to cope with such a cloying place and before the day was even over Bain was picking out their next train.

And on it went. They would get to a town or a city or occasionally wander into a village, but there would be no work for Bard. No one needed a tutor or wanted to train him on their farm when they could just employ someone else. Bard could tell they also saw the children and wondered exactly how reliable a worker Bard was going to be.

One evening while Bain and Tilda were already sleeping, and to be honest Sigrid probably should be as well, she settled down next to him where he was reading by the firelight and started picking absentmindedly at her dress. Bard was exhausted, he was bone tired and growing increasingly worried with every day, their money would not hold out much longer to continue doing this. They needed an income and they needed a home, although he knew it would be a long time before Mirkwood Hall stopped feeling like home, before Thranduil and Legolas stopped feeling like home.

God Bard missed them so much. He missed Legolas and he missed Thranduil. He was so tired.

He hadn’t really cried yet, not since they had left, he hadn’t had that cathartic release that he so desperately needed. They were constantly on the move and there were a million new things to be worried about, old worries that Thranduil had taken away with his kisses.

He was so tired.

“We can’t keep doing this much longer can we da.” Sigrid said, it wasn’t really a question, Bard wished she didn’t have to worry, these things were Bard’s to worry about. When they had been with Thranduil Sigrid had finally managed to stop worrying about everything. Now here they were again.

“Don’t you worry about that darlin’, I’ll find something.” Bard reassured even though he felt no such confidence and he could tell by Sigrid’s weary nod that she didn’t believe it either.

“Can I ask what happened, with ad– with Thranduil? All you said was that he lied and I’d like to know.” Sigrid enquired, biting her lip nervously like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to even ask him, maybe she was afraid of what Bard had to say, or what she might find out, or even of just hurting him by asking him to relive it in words.

“I’m sorry, I should have told you sooner. As soon as it happened even, it was your life as well.” Bard sighed, letting his head top back against the chair he was sitting on the floor in front of. “Do you remember hearing strange laughter sometimes?”

“Yeah Tauriel said it was Feren, and didn’t Thranduil tell you that it was nothing?”

“It was his wife.”

“What!” Sigrid exclaimed alarmed, but keeping their hushed tone so they didn’t wake Tilda and Bain. “I didn’t even know he had a wife.”

“Neither did I.”

“Oh da, I’m sorry.”

“But it’s not that he had a wife. We could never have married anyway and she is ill, deranged even, that is why he kept her locked away in the upper left wing. She started the fire in Thranduil’s rooms one night when she escaped. No, it wasn’t that he had a wife, it was that he lied to me. When I asked him about the laughter he lied directly and the whole time we were together he was lying by omission.

“I just don’t understand it. Did he think that I would not be sympathetic? That I would condemn him when all he does is look out for her wellbeing? I just, I do not understand why he felt the need to lie and I need to understand that before– I’m sorry for forcing you all to leave. Maybe I– ”

_Maybe I overreacted_ was how that sentence would have ended but he trailed off, unable to voice it. The thought had plagued him for days the more he thought about what had happened the more lost and disoriented he felt. But he had no idea if that was how he really felt or just a result of their current increasingly desperate situation and his own loneliness, the feeling of missing Thranduil crushing him down every moment of everyday, his own broken heart stopping him from being able to really sort out his feelings.

“Oh da, I’m so sorry.” Sigrid told him, her sincerity written across her voice as she wrapped her arms around him and cuddled into his side, offering him all the comfort she could until she eventually fell asleep and Bard tucked her next to her siblings before taking up his bed on yet another uncomfortable armchair.

They continued as they had been, getting on trains and hopping between places. They couldn’t do it much longer Bard knew it and Sigrid’s anxious face told him that she knew it too, even Bain was well aware that they couldn’t carry on like this much longer. But the problem was that Bard had absolutely no idea what else they were supposed to do. He simply didn’t have a better idea. As far as teaching positions went he had always known people to apply for their new one before leaving their old one to avoid the risk of ending up in situations just like this.

Bard had no family that he could call on in their hour of need, his own parents had died when he was a teenager and they had never had brothers or sisters themselves, it was just them, they had nowhere to go while Bard looked for work.

He couldn’t even write and send out letter of application all over the country because he had nowhere for the responses to be delivered as they had no permanent address, and he couldn’t afford to burn their money away in one place while he waited for correspondence that would probably only be telling him that he did not have the job anyway.

It was only another week later when they were truly out of money. They were on what would have to be their final train because they simply weren’t going to be able to board another, they’d be able to get a room at an inn for one night if it wasn’t overpriced but after that Bard had no idea what they were going to do.

He didn’t even have enough for them to go back to Mirkwood.

Bard swallowed over the lump in his throat.

They climbed sleepily off the train and found the cheapest looking inn in the town and while the children slept, Bard sat up fretting. Tomorrow he had to find work, he _had_ to. But he’d been saying that for a while now.

They got up early, Bard went without any breakfast and Sigrid noticed, he tried to smile at her as if there was nothing to worry about but he knew his face was tight and the truth was dulling his eyes.

It was raining, it was raining a lot lately. They were cold, they were wet, they were homeless and they were hungry, and this time, there was no Tauriel to pull up beside them in a dry carriage and take them away somewhere.

They were alone.

The town had no work for Bard, there was no point staying there so they forged on, this time on foot, Bard had no idea how far they would get. Someone had told him there was a hamlet a few hours down the road called Blue Mountains where he might actually find work, Bard wasn’t sure how likely it was really, but it was all he had to go on.

But while it may have taken Bard only a few hours to walk there, he had three children, all of whom were young, even though sometimes it was easy to forget with the way Sigrid and even to a certain extent Bain behaved, forced to grow up too fast and being forced again. But no matter how old they were for their age, they were still only twelve and fifteen.

They had both celebrated a birthday while they were at Mirkwood hall, Thranduil had an excuse to absolutely spoil them rotten so he had. Bard knew he had already been preparing for Tilda’s birthday, it was only in a month, he had wanted it ready for when they got back from France. Bard didn’t know exactly what he had been planning, only that he was pretty sure it involved ponies.

But they didn’t have that anymore, Bain and Sigrid had been pulled back out of a childhood they had only just reclaimed, but whether they acted older than they were or not, they were still only young and couldn’t walk as fast for as long as Bard, with Tilda and the bags and on top of that, they had been walking for four hours and still were not at the hamlet.

It was dark and the temperature was dropping, Bard would find them shelter if there was any. They couldn’t be far off now, surely. He had never felt like a worse father than he did then. When they reached the hamlet there he prayed that somewhere would let them stay the night, he hoped beyond hope that he had just enough money left to let them in, he would work for the room he didn’t care, he just needed to get his kids out this rain and cold.

Bard was carrying Tilda on his back, there was no way she could have made the walk on her own little legs even if she wasn’t already exhausted, he was trying to keep some of the rain off her, and hoped that he was at least keeping her a little warm from their closeness, but he didn’t know how successful he was being. He was carrying two of the bags as well, Bain and Sigrid managing the other one between them, taking turns as they stumbled on wearily.

But it was dark and they were numb from the cold and weary from walking so long and Sigrid caught her foot on a root and fell down with a little yelp of pain. Bard rushed over to her, setting Tilda down for the moment and crouching by his eldest.

“Sig are you okay?!” Bard asked frantically, checking her face.

“I’ll be fine I just caught my ankle.” She forced a smile and tried to stand, ever the trooper, but the minute she tried to put weight on her foot she was falling again and Bard was catching her.

It was probably only a bad sprain but it was exactly what they didn’t need right now and he would never try to make her walk on it and, and there was a light up ahead.

It was hard to make out, but it looked like a farmhouse. What it was, was their only option. He could only hope that the people inside were sympathetic.

He scooped up Sigrid despite her protestations that she was fine and far too old to be carried but Bard wasn’t about to let her make it worse by walking on it when it was causing her pain. Bain managed to get Tilda on his back, she was far too tired to be walking anywhere or she would just end up having an accident as well.

Bain, the hero, also managed to drag along two of their cases, and really Bard wasn’t the least bit worried about them being dragged through the mud at this point, and he managed to slip the other one onto his wrist and still carry Sigrid.

It wasn’t easy, but within twenty minutes of moving as fast as they could they reached the farmhouse and Bard knocked on the door, desperate for there to be kind people inside.

“What the– oh.” A stout and warm looking woman probably in her early forties answered the door, taking in their appearance with a look of concern. “Well I was going to ask you what you thought you were doing knocking on doors this time of night, but I guess I can see why. Come in quick out of the cold, oh my, there’s a very little one as well.” She ushered them in and Bard felt like a crippling weight had been lifted off his chest.

The woman lifted sleeping Tilda off of Bain’s back when she saw her, looking increasingly concerned by the state of the family that had just appeared desperate and cold and wet on her doorstep.

She hadn’t even hesitated before inviting them in.

Bard wanted to cry.

“Thank you so much. I had no idea what we were going to do, my daughter she tripped and her ankle.”

“It’s quite alright dear.” She assured and Bard felt like she genuinely meant it. “Frerin! Thorin! Get down here, we have guests.” She bellowed up the stairs, and she really did have a set of lungs on her.

“What in gods name– ”

“It’s the middle of the night what do you– ”

Two men appeared down the stairs, they were probably in their early forties, although neither of them looked much older than mid-thirties. They were strong as they had to be to own a farm, and tanned from working out in the sun. They both had long and wild dark hair that was braided out of their faces, in fact the woman also had her hair like this. Bard would bet money on them being related, they had the same strong features, the same stout and solid build, the same hair colour.

The two men took in Bard and his children and abruptly stopped speaking, Bard was about to start apologising profusely, but before he had a chance Sigrid was being lifted out of his tired arms and laid gently on the worn sofa by the older of the two, while the other one turned away and came back with a glass of water for her.

“What happened?” The one with Sigrid asked, not caring about her muddied clothes on his furniture.

“She tripped on an exposed root, she’s hurt her ankle.” Bard explained, worrying his lip anxiously.

“Do you mind?” The man asked Sigrid, motioning at her shoe, she shook her head and he eased it off and carefully inspected her slightly swollen ankle.

While he did this, the woman was rocking Tilda gently against her getting her to fall seamlessly into the sleep she so desperately needed and the other man had water in each of their hands quickly. Bard felt like he could collapse.

“I am so grateful for this, I cannot even convey it. Do you know how far it is to the Blue Mountains hamlet?” Bard asked, he would not presume they would be allowed to stay.

“Another hour or so at your pace I should imagine.” The woman answered, her brows pulling together like she wasn’t entirely sure why Bard was asking, Tilda was asleep against her.

“Right.” Bard sighed dismayed, he had hoped she would tell him it was just over the next hill. “I am sure we can make it.”

“Do you have family or someone waiting for you there?” The older of the two men asked, coming over from where Sigrid was now sitting up sipping on water, relief etched across her soft face.

“No, I was told there might be work. We, we don’t have anything but each other right now.” Bard admitted, he felt ashamed.

“Then it’s settled, you will stay.” The older one stated, arms crossed.

“I would not wish us to be a burden…” Bard trailed off, if they were being offered shelter he wasn’t about to dismiss it, but something English in him made him check.

“We are not about to send you back out in that.” The younger man said firmly, indicating outside with his head where rain was still pouring.

“Thank you.” Was all Bard could say even if it was not nearly enough, his voice sounded broken down and quiet even to his own ears.

“What on earth have you been through.” The older one muttered, and Bard was inclined to tell him, he seemed so kind, they all did, they also seemed as though they knew something about what he was experiencing.

“Well, you all look utterly exhausted, how about we find some blankets.” The woman suggested, reaching for one of the cases Bain was holding to set it down and then the other one.

“We can squeeze into one room.” The younger man discussed with his brother who nodded, then turned to Bard. “There’s a bed in there, your girls could fit into it I’m sure, then there’s the sofa and an armchair.”

“I can’t ask you to leave you room.” Bard told them, already feeling like they were taking advantage of their kindness.

“You didn’t, we offered.” The older one smiled and within the hour they had the girls tucked into a bed and Bain asleep on the sofa.

Bard was so tired he felt about ready to drop, but he found himself in the small kitchen with his benevolent hosts.

“Thank you really, I– ”

“Stop thanking us, honestly. I have no idea who in the world could have left you outside, but it is certainly not us.” The woman hushed him firmly.

“Still, it means more than you can imagine.”

“What is your name weary traveller?” The oldest one asked, a playful smile dancing on his lips and making Bard relax even further.

“Bard Bowman.” He replied. “Tilda is my youngest, then Bain and Sigrid.”

“It is lovely to meet you Bard, I’m Dís Durin, and these are my brothers Frerin and Thorin.” She smiled, indicating to the older one and then the younger one, although she was the youngest of the three.

“How did you end up here?” Thorin asked.

“We…had to leave my last place of employment. The small amount of money we had ran out before I found more work and well, I had no idea what to do.” Bard explained vaguely, he could tell they had a thousand questions, probably about why he had had to leave but he really didn’t want to have that conversation, what would he even say? Dís and Thorin looked like they were about to ask, but Frerin spoke before they could.

“Well, I am glad you knocked on our door Bard, but I think we should let you get some sleep.” Frerin said, and the relief was probably visible on his face if the way he smiled at him understandingly was anything to go by.

They bid him goodnight and left him in the living space with Bain, bundled up with warm blankets. He was asleep in seconds.

 

The next day was surreal, Bard thought that surely they ought to be leaving, but the Durin’s were keeping them busy, tending to Sigrid’s ankle, instructing her to keep her weight off it, letting Tilda sleep well into the day like she desperately needed, inviting Bain out onto the field to help as he looked bored.

He mentioned that they should leave, get out of their hair, but Frerin just replied with a kind smile and “nonsense, Sigrid needs to rest, you all do”.

Bard didn’t know what to say. Never in his life had he experienced such quick and unconditional kindness.  

On the second day with the Durin’s, Bard found himself sat alone looking out over the moors. He did not know how far from Mirkwood Hall they were, just a few hours or many on a train or more, he did not know. Their many random train journeys had brought them vaguely back north, but the north was vast. He didn’t know if that had been deliberate or not, to come back this way when they had reached so far south in their travels.

He missed him so much.

He had not been alone since it had happened, he always had his children or the next struggle to distract him. But now he was alone.

And he missed him so much.

Why had Thranduil lied? Betrayed his trust and broken his heart and driven him away.

Why had he run away and left? He didn’t know if he regretted it or if he was just _lonely._ He missed him so severely it burned through his chest like a vicious fire. He felt dread in his gut at the thought though he didn’t know why.

He missed him so much.

Bard cried, finally and properly. It was like a damn breaking its banks. Unable to stop it once it had started Bard just let it happened. Sat alone looking out over the moors and cried himself hoarse. He cried until his head thumped and his face hurt and his heart felt like it was tearing. He cried until he ran out of tears. He cried for a very long time.

“Thran– ” He sobbed out over the moors before cutting himself off and burying his face in his hands again.

It had probably been hours but finally Bard was able to take great gulping breaths and the crying subsided, even if the ache did not. He sat and looked out over the rolling moors, a light rain threatening to fall at any moment.

A little while later Frerin sat down quietly beside him and just stayed there with him on the rocks.

“We have a small house that we can let to you, it’s not much, but it’s yours if you want it.” He said eventually, voice kind and genuine.

“We have no money, I cannot repay you.” Bard replied, his voice was scratchy from crying, Frerin pretended not to notice and he was grateful.

“We need a new farm hand as well.” Frerin explained softly, he smiled and warmly squeezed Bard’s shoulder, his fingers lingering slightly. “The offer is there.”  

Frerin left Bard to his thoughts, he didn’t know what to say, they had taken them in without a second thought, and now they were saying they could stay.

Bard missed Thranduil so much he felt physically sick, but somehow, this place made it seem easier, made it seem possible. It felt safe, a refuge from the world.

Perhaps he was hiding.

He didn’t know.

Bard picked himself up.

 


	10. Chapter 10

 

Bard enjoyed working on the farm, he preferred teaching and probably always would, but he liked the hard labour too, it kept his mind away from things. He wrote letters to Legolas, two, sometimes three times a week, he always told him that he missed him and a few adventures from the farm, he hoped Legolas read them. His children liked it there as well, the Durin’s were kind and hardworking, they had been through their own share of troubles too Bard was sure.

They were kind to his children, Dís spent a lot of the day with them, and Bard would bet she was a wonderful mother, her two sons had recently forged out into the world – one of the reasons they had needed someone on the farm – and she missed them dearly but couldn’t hold them back from finding their own lives. Thorin was very driven and hardworking, they all were but there was just something more focused about him. Bard sometimes mused that he seemed angry, though at what Bard couldn’t say, and angry or not he was a good man. Bard wondered what had happened to them that had made Thorin angry and serious, but they did not pry into what had happened to him and his family, so Bard would do them the same courtesy, no matter his curiosity.

Frerin was a different matter, Bard had come to know him the best, spending his days with him out on the farm as he was shown how everything worked. Frerin would grin at him and tell him that he was a quick study whenever he got something working or successfully did something on his own when Frerin had only shown him once. They still worked together, Frerin choosing to have them both focus on the same task so they could move on faster rather than dividing the labour completely. It was nice, they were able to talk while they worked and Frerin seemed to have a million stories to tell, mostly about the mischief Dís and Thorin had got up to when they were little, Bard matched him with tales of his children’s various shenanigans and they normally had each other laughing, especially when Frerin told him about the incident with the missing chicken, apparently they had a habit of losing chickens.

He wasn’t like his brother, there was something light about him, something carefree and happy, he was the kind of person Bard imagined it would be near impossible to dampen the spirits of. When it rained and poured Frerin would laugh and shake his wild hair into the rain before carrying on his work with an even wider smile, when it was sunny he would bask and find a game to play with the children outside, when the crops didn’t yield a surplus he celebrated that they still had enough to feed themselves so it didn’t matter, when anyone was sad he told ridiculous jokes until they smiled.

He was infectious with his happiness and free with his kindness. There was just something so wild about him, he even had Bard smiling again at something other than his children. He had the Durin’s to thank for not still feeling cripplingly guilty whenever he looked at them, it lingered of course, Bard supposed it always would, but they were starting to be happy again.

Bard wouldn’t say that he was happy exactly, he didn’t know if he was sad either. He wasn’t entirely sure how he felt really. Thranduil had left such a deep empty space in his heart that Bard couldn’t tell what he actually felt, except that he was lonely, he knew he was lonely.

Perhaps this aching loneliness that he felt was why he didn’t really notice Frerin’s slower smiles, or his just very slightly lingering touches – a squeeze to the shoulder, a hand on his arm – well he noticed them, he just didn’t feel their connotations, he felt as though that part of his heart had never left Mirkwood Hall, and indeed, it hadn’t.

“Tell me to bugger off, but am I allowed to ask what happened? How you really ended up on our doorstep in the middle of the night?” Frerin inquired one day while they were out on the field, pausing for lunch and sat in the grass, it was threatening rain but most days it was just refreshing.

“Your curiosity finally get the better of you?” Bard smiled, joking lightly, he was deflecting and they both knew it.

“No but my concern did.” Frerin replied with a seriousness that was unusual for him and knocked Bard.

“I’m fine.” He said, but he knew he wasn’t, not really.

“Debateable. I may not have known you before, or even for very long, but apart from sometimes when you are around your children you don’t exactly have the bearing of a man that is ‘fine’, you look more like you are a man that is just surviving.” Frerin said gently and hitting very close to the mark, Bard sighed, not knowing what he should say.

“It is difficult. There are things that happened that most people would not look kindly on, would call a sin and wish me ill. I do not want to put you in that position.” _I do not want you to kick us out_ went unsaid but he could see that Frerin understood his meaning.

It was hard, Bard thought that it was unlikely Frerin would condemn him let alone his children, he even had an inkling in the back of his mind that he may be the same or a similar way himself. But you could never really tell with such things and it was risky.

“Did you kill someone?” Frerin queried bluntly.

“What! Of course not.” Bard responded a little horrified that Frerin would even consider such a thing, then again his expression suggested that he hadn’t really considered it a possibility, more like he was working towards a point.

“Did you hurt someone?” He asked and Bard paused thinking about Legolas, thinking about Thranduil, his own children, even himself. People had gotten hurt, but he knew that really that was not the kind of hurt that Frerin meant.

“No, well, not directly, not intentionally.” Bard answered. He had no idea if Legolas received the letters he sent him a couple of times a week every week, he hoped that he did, he hoped he was making it better not worse for him.

“Then whatever it is that happened, I would not wish you ill, I would not send you away.” Frerin stated with such honest sincerity that Bard found himself wanting to tell him everything.

It was still dangerous, he knew that, but he also knew that he didn’t believe Frerin would throw them out or condemn him. And Bard felt like he owed it to him as well, owed him the truth. Also, he wondered if it would feel like a relief to tell someone, to share what had happened with someone older than fourteen.

“I started working as the tutor of the young son of an aristocrat and I fell in love with his father. We were happy and miraculously safe in our own little world before his wife’s brother – a wife he had neglected to tell me about, even lied about, who was living locked in a tower – came and ripped it apart. Her brother made threats, I was heartbroken from the lies so I gathered my children and we ran.”

“Christ, Bard I’m sorry.” Frerin breathed, squeezing one of Bard’s hands comfortingly. “If he was keeping his wife locked up and lying to you then it sounds like it was good that you got away.”

“It wasn’t that simple.” Bard sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face feeling tired, the exhaustion from the onslaught of emotions that happened whenever he allowed himself to even think about it.

“Sounds pretty simple to me, even if it is hard to fall out of love with someone.” Frerin replied not unkindly.

“She was insane. He was duped into marrying her not knowing about her condition. As her mental state worsened she became violent and dangerous and he had to lock her away to keep everyone safe, but he won’t send her to an asylum and annul the marriage because he knows as we all do that asylums are cruel places. He looks after her and he protects her even if she makes attempts on his life.” Bard explained, looking out over the field, finding it easier than looking at his friend while he explained.

“Well shit. Okay, that’s not simple at all.” Frerin agreed looking at Bard sympathetically.

“No, it is not. I wish he had no lied to me, that is what hurt the most. That he intended to keep me in the dark forever, if he had just told me I could have helped, I wouldn’t have left.”

“Look, now I don’t want to defend the man and I don’t think you should be with someone who lies to you. But for what it’s worth I doubt he meant to hurt you. More likely he didn’t want to tell you until he trusted you and then he was already falling for you or was with you already and had been lying since you got there so he didn’t know how to tell you.” Frerin said, but the look on his face seemed almost conflicted, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to say what he was saying.

Bard worried at his bottom lip as Frerin spoke, fisting his hands and trying not to think too hard, because what Frerin was saying was exactly what he thought. That maybe he had reacted too extremely in the heat of the moment, that he shouldn’t have left like that, leaving no room for him to come back. But Thranduil _had_ lied to him on multiple occasions, and the entire time he had been lying by omission and that did hurt, that still hurt. And Bard knew that leaving had been right, he would never have been able to work out how he felt if he had stayed there with Thranduil near him all the time, he was struggling to do it out here.  Bard didn’t know how to respond, so he just nodded wearily.

“Like I said, he should have told you, you shouldn’t be with someone who lies. But then, I have a vested interest.” Frerin stated and Bard looked at him quizzically, so Frerin continued. “I would like you to stay here, with me.”

Bard didn’t miss Frerin’s meaning, but he had no idea what to do with it in that moment so he pretended not to notice. Frerin didn’t seem to mind, he just lent Bard a hand to haul him off the ground and get back to work.

Bard didn’t leave, he still didn’t know his own mind, his heart was still not his own, he feared it never would be again. Although they never spoke of it, Frerin seemed to take this as confirmation that Bard and the children would not be leaving them, and some days it was hard to imagine ever leaving the comfort and tranquillity of staying with the Durin’s. But then other days Bard missed Legolas and Thranduil so deeply that he felt sick and bile rose up in his throat and he couldn’t eat and cried silently into his pillow unable to sleep.

Bard had no idea what he planned to do.

A couple of months into their stay with the Durin’s was when Bard found out about their past, because it had become relevant to their future.

They usually took their dinner with the Durin’s, choosing to fuse together most evenings for the company and their friendship (and Dís’ excellent cooking). He and Frerin were sitting outside, Frerin wanting to smoke his pipe but Dís was unable to tolerate the smell and always made him do it outside, so Bard joined him, always enjoying their easy conversation. Besides, his children were more than occupied, they were enrapt as Thorin told them dramatic stories of dragons and far off lands and magic.

It had been Tilda’s birthday a few weeks ago, they had spoiled her as much as they were able off their simple life, and she had smiled as they brought out the little cake and giggled as Frerin had tossed her around merrily, and Thorin presented her with the simple but pretty little necklace he had made for her. But Bard knew she missed her ada, missed his cuddles and his soft melodic laughter and gentle smiles and the way he would play with her despite all his grandeur. And when Dís gave her a doll she had sewn Tilda took it and smiled because she really did like it and she would never be an ungrateful child, but Bard could tell from the flicker in her eye that she wanted her old doll back. The one Thranduil had got her and she have loved beyond reason and had taken everywhere with her, everywhere except here.

Tilda missed her ada, Bard missed him too, missed him terribly. And instead of getting better with time, it seemed to be getting worse.

“You know we come from a place called Erebor.” Frerin started without prompting, Bard listened quietly and waited for him to continue. “It was taken from us by a man by the name of Smaug. Our grandfather made some poor investments and before we knew it we were being thrown out and our home taken from us. I couldn’t stay with my father or grandfather, they were too obsessed with getting revenge when they should’ve been worried about Dís and Thorin, Dís wasn’t even a teenager, Thorin was only fifteen. So I took what money I could and found this place and put a roof over their heads, we’ve been here ever since. Well, Dís lived with her husband down in the hamlet for a while, but when he died she came back with the children.”

“Frerin, I had no idea, I’m sorry.” Bard replied, knowing it wasn’t enough but he didn’t know what else to say.

“Thorin has always resented it, all of it. But he grew up and he understands why I did it.” Frerin sighed, taking a long draw from his pipe and looking out over the dark moors.

“You’re a good man, Frerin. You did the right thing.” Bard assured knowing it was true, he squeezed Frerin’s free hand between them, trying to comfort him, Frerin turn his palm up and linked their fingers.

“I got a letter from my father and grandfather, they’re proposing we all move to Moria in a few months, be a family again, at least be near each other. Apparently we have a lot of distant family over there. I don’t know how likely it is to work out in the end, but Thorin wants to go and…”

“Moria, that’s not in this country is it?” Bard said slowly, he didn’t know if they would be able to stay in their little house or if they would have to find somewhere else, he didn’t know how it would work. He didn’t want them to go but that wasn’t his choice.

“No.” Frerin sighed.

“Oh.”

“Bard, I want you to come with me. You and the children.” Frerin told him, and maybe Bard would have said yes because he didn’t want to lose his friends, but Frerin voice and face were full of hope and sincerity and something else and Bard knew what that something was.

He looked down at their joined hands and sighed, he couldn’t go. Not knowing what Frerin felt and knowing that he could never return that, it wouldn’t be fair for him to think that he would. 

And Bard still wasn’t ready to leave, not the country, that felt too final.

“I’m sorry Frerin, I can’t.” Bard breathed defeated, gently unjoining their hands.

“You still love him don’t you.” Frerin stated and Bard nodded resigned, shutting his eyes. “I would never hurt you, you know that right.” The _not like he did_ went unsaid.

“I know. But I think that you would let me hurt you, and I cannot allow you to do that.” Bard replied, because he could so easily let himself be comforted by Frerin’s closeness, he could let his friend look after him the way he wanted to. But he would never feel the same, he knew that he could never feel the same, not when that part of his heart had never left Mirkwood Hall, it still belonged to Thranduil. It would always belong to Thranduil.

“I would still want you to come with us, even if we could never be.” Frerin told him quietly before standing up and going back into the house, leaving Bard alone to think.

He didn’t change his answer. They said they would be able to stay in the house, that that shouldn’t be a problem as they would only sell their own house, but Bard knew they were all hoping that he would change his mind.

The kids didn’t say anything, Bard knew that it was because they didn’t know what they wanted. Because they loved the Durin’s and didn’t want them to go, but leaving the country would mean that they really weren’t ever going to see Thranduil or Legolas again.

Bard knew they had been hoping for a long time that they might go back, that they missed Thranduil. So did Bard.

They had been with the Durin’s for another month when Bard realised that he wasn’t just still in love with Thranduil, something he knew in his heart he would always be, but he had forgiven him as well. That he had forgiven him a long time ago. He’d possibly forgiven him the moment that it happened because even if he had been hurt and angry he had still understood. And now with time the anger had faded, and it had turned into a different kind of hurt. Now he hurt because of how much he missed him. Thranduil had left a gaping hole in his heart.

But that was the problem.

Thranduil hadn’t left, Bard had. And despite Tauriel’s words, he didn’t know if he was welcome to come back.

The way he had left, _god_ he had broken Thranduil’s heart. He had had a right to be angry with him he knew that. But he had watched as he _broke_ Thranduil. His face, his voice when Bard was leaving, Bard couldn’t bear to even think about it, it made bile rise up in his throat from guilt and hurt.

Bard wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t want to ever see him again.

It had been over three months. What if Thranduil had gotten over him, had put himself back together and had moved on? What if Bard turned up on the doorstep only to be turned away? He didn’t think he would be able to handle that, in fact he knew he wouldn’t.

Bard wanted to go back, but he didn’t know if he could.

Maybe it would be better if Bard stayed away, if they both continued down their own separate paths. Maybe that would be easier no matter how lonely he would be, no matter how much he would miss him.

He was being a coward.

But then, Thranduil hadn’t come after him so what if he didn’t want Bard to come back. But even in his confused and cowardly mind Bard knew that this was not fair. Bard had run away, the only time Thranduil would have had any clue where he was would have been that first night before they boarded their first train. And Bard knew that had he turned up then he would not have been happy about it. He had wanted the space, and he knew that he had needed it as well.

Being away had allowed him to realise that he still loved Thranduil, that he always would, and that he had forgiven him.

If only he knew how to go back.

But Bard was scared, scared of rejection, he had been scared of that so many times with Thranduil before and it had never happened, but this time, it seemed all the more likely.

So Bard was a coward and he stayed where he was.

“You know Sigrid.” Dís said one evening when they were putting the finishing touches on dinner. “I can leave you with my recipe books if you like.”

“Oh, I could never ask you to leave them behind.” Sigrid protested, seasoning the meat with some kind of herb.

“I know them all by heart anyway.” She waved her off and they started carrying in all of the delicious smelling food they had managed to create.

“Bain, tell them what you managed today.” Thorin smiled encouragingly before taking a large bite of his food, making Bain grin about whatever he had just reminded him of.

“Oh yeah, da I forgot to tell you.” Bain beamed, and Bard guessed it wasn’t that surprising since Bard had been out of the field with Frerin until about ten minutes ago and Bain had been visiting the little village centre (although it was more of a hamlet, but still, there were a few shops and essentials there) with Thorin to work at the forge. So it was the first time they had seen each other all day, and if anything would distract Bard’s son it was most certainly food.

“What?” Bard prompted as Bain stuffed some bread into his mouth before continuing.

“Thorin let me actually use the forge today!” He exclaimed excitedly around his mouthful, rooting around in his pocket and pulling something out and handing it to Bard. “Look! I made it.” He smiled proudly.

It was a horse shoe, it was beaten up and uneven and wouldn’t be fit to go on an actual horse, but it was most definitely a horse shoe and Bain had made it and was proud of himself so Bard was delighted as well.

“That’s amazing Bain.” He grinned flipping the horse shoe over in his hand and really it wasn’t bad at all for a first attempt. “Can I keep it?” He asked genuinely, Bard was a lot of things and sentimental was most definitely one of them. Maybe that was why it hurt so much that they had left everything Thranduil gave them at Mirkwood Hall.

“Yeah, I did make it for you da.” Bain told him happily around another mouthful of dinner, Bard should probably tell him not to speak with his mouth full, but the Durin’s didn’t exactly seem to mind, in fact they were usually doing exactly the same thing.

“What about you Til? Do anything fun today?” Bard asked, turning to his youngest who actually looked a little dejected today, picking at her food and keeping unusually quiet.

“It was okay.” She mumbled and Dís gave him a look that told him he needed to talk to her, Bard would have known something was up without her look of course, but still, it was nice to know that he wasn’t the only one who cared about his children.

So when the dishes were packed away and they were trudging down the short walk back to their own house, Bard had planned to talk to his youngest, scoop her up and find out what was wrong. But Tilda had scampered ahead, clearly trying to avoid him and only letting Bain walk close to her, whenever Bard sped up to try and catch up to her, her little legs just started hurrying faster. He didn’t want to make her – or see her – run away from him, but now he was really concerned. He didn’t know what he had done.

Bard had just made the decision to chase after her and hold onto her so she couldn’t run away and she would have to talk to him, but just as he was about to Sigrid caught his arm and tugged him into step with her instead.

“Leave her be for a little while, at least until we get back home.” Sigrid told him, letting their pace slow a little more so that they fell behind Bain and Tilda.

“What has upset her?” Bard asked, he had no idea if it was him or if something else was bothering her and she just didn’t want to talk about it. He hated seeing her upset, but she had never run away from him before.

“She’s confused and it’s making her upset and angry at you.” Sigrid explained plainly, she’d grown in the past few months, he would bet she was going to be a very tall and very beautiful young lady soon.

“What is?” Bard queried, although to be honest, he was fairly sure he knew, he just didn’t like thinking about it himself.

“You won’t go back to Thranduil and Legolas and Mirkwood Hall, but you’re not going to go with Dís and Thorin and Frerin either. She doesn’t know why we can’t go back and she doesn’t know why we can’t go with them. She doesn’t see why we have to lose them both.” Sigrid explained, fiddling with the sleeves of her dress, and Bard knew his daughter well enough to know that Tilda wasn’t the only one who felt this way, Sigrid was just better at pretending.

“Oh. Christ I’m sorry. I didn’t even think. I– I don’t know what to do.” Bard admitted, sighing and feeling like he was failing his children, in fact he was sure he was.

“You need to choose.” Sigrid stated simply, fixing Bard with a stern look that reminded him more than a little of her mother.

He knew she was right, her mother had always been right as well, in fact if she were here Bard had no doubt she would be kicking his arse and telling him to buck up. He missed her too.

“What do you want?” He asked her sincerely, because he knew what he wanted, but he didn’t have the courage to do it.

“I want to go home da.” She told him voice quiet and tired and Bard’s heart broke again because even after months, Sigrid still thought of it as home, even as she supported her da and would go wherever he went without complaint, she had never stopped thinking of Mirkwood as home.

And she wasn’t the only one. He was pretty sure they all did.

He hated himself for putting his children through this, through everything he had, it had been selfish.

Going with the Durin’s would be easier and it would be harder and it was the right decision and it was the wrong decision and in the end Bard was a coward. He was tired and lonely and he was a coward and Frerin smiled at him like he could make him happy. And right now Bard didn’t know how to go back no matter how much or how desperately he wanted to.

But the problem was just that, right now he did desperately want to go back.

He wanted to go home and wrap Thranduil up in his arms and tell him how sorry he was and how much he loved him until his voice went hoarse. He wanted to play hide and seek with Legolas and find out how his painting was going. And he wanted to spend his evenings tucked up with Thranduil in the – in their – warm library with its eternally crackling fire before retiring to bed with him and curling up to sleep in each other’s arms.

He wanted to go home.

They couldn’t stay with the Durin’s or go with them to Moria.

They needed to go home.

But that didn’t make the actual act of going back seem any less daunting, any less difficult. He hadn’t told Sigrid what he had decided, the minute he told someone it would make it real. At the moment he could wait, stall until the Durin’s left and give him time to gather his courage before going back, going home.

He was going to need all the courage he could muster to walk back into Mirkwood Hall, a churning in his stomach made him feel sick whenever he thought about it. It felt like foreboding but it didn’t feel like it was because he might be told to leave. He knew deep down that Thranduil would not send him away, he had always known that he had just been making excuses to himself to wallow in his cowardice. So why did he feel such creeping trepidation whenever he thought of the Hall?

It was early in the evening, just a couple of weeks until the Durin’s left overseas. He could tell that Frerin and his siblings were still hoping that Bard and the children would still change their minds and come with them, but Bard’s mind was already made up.

He was sat out looking out over the darkened moors in the rain and usually Bard had come to enjoy it, finding the rain refreshing and letting it wash the day away, letting it wash his fears and trouble away. He had hoped it would give him the strength to leave tomorrow, to tell Frerin and Dís and Thorin and his children and to finally go home.

But today the rain was suffocating and fraught, the wind groaned and howled and whipped around Bard as if it was cutting him, slicing through him mercilessly. He could feel dread welling up inside him though he did not know why.

He stood, he should go inside. But fear had him rooted to the spot though he did not know what he was scared of.

The wind picked up again, it was so strong and loud that it was uprooting trees, but the wind didn’t sound like it was screaming, it sounded like it was wailing, like it was crying.

And then he heard it, shouted and choked off and sobbed and Thranduil.

“Bard!”

“Thranduil!” Bard bellowed into the night, wishing he could see better in the dark, but he knew he wasn’t there. Somehow he knew he wasn’t there.

“Bard.” It was quieter this time but no less desperate, it sounded strangled and wept and it took a vice like grip around Bard’s heart and gripped it so tight he thought it might stop.

“Thran!” Bard screamed at the top of his lungs across the moors, the name ripping itself from his throat.

“Bard.” It was barely a whisper, a broken, cried out whisper and Bard knew.

Wherever Thranduil was he was crying, he was hurt.

They had to go back, they had to leave now.

Bard raced for the house.

 


	11. Chapter 11

 

Bard pushed his way through the whipping wind and icy rain, it was a night not unlike the one they had arrived in. He forced his way through it and flung the door to their house open with a loud bang, startling Bain and Sigrid in the living area and no doubt waking up a recently asleep Tilda.

“Da?” Sigrid and Bain chorused, concern filling their faces and tone, he wasn’t surprised, he probably looked half deranged stood there, soaking and cold and windswept, looking manically around the room.

“Kids, we need to go.” Bard said frantically. He was trying not to shout. He didn’t want to scare them. But Sigrid was shooting him a warning look.

“Da, why?” She asked in a voice that demanded that he better have a good reason for doing this to them again or they would not be going anywhere. He really loved his daughter.

“Because we need to go home. I think something has happened to Th-hranduil.” Bard explained nervously failing to keep the tremble out of his voice.

“What! What’s happened? How do you know?” Sigrid shot up, Bain asking a similar slew of questions as they both frantically made their way across the room.

“I don’t, I don’t _know_. I-I just. There’s something is wrong. He’s hurt or– we have to go back.” Bard’s voice grew more desperate with each word, he was pulling at his hair. He felt like they were wasting time. But he knew his kids deserved an explanation.

However, apparently whatever Bard had managed to say was enough because Sigrid was squeezing his hand and Bain was heading up the stairs at a run and then so was Sigrid and Bard was following. He ducked into Tilda’s room, she’d only just gone to bed and she was sitting up in bed looking at the door bleary eyed. She’d no doubt been woken by the commotion downstairs.

“Wha’s goin’ on?” She asked sleepily, rubbing at her eyes, hair sleep mussed and looking confused.

“Can you pack your things darling’? We need to leave, as quick as we can.” Bard told her, it wasn’t that late, if they were fast they could still make the last train out of town. But the second Bard spoke Tilda tightened up and gripped onto her covers.

“No! Da no I don’t want to leave again. I just started to like it here. Don’t make me miss Dís and Frerin and Thorin as well as ada.” She cried, clinging on to her blankets like they would keep her from being moved.

Bard had known how much the children had missed their ada, but seeing them react now. He could see how angry they had been at being dragged away from him. He could see how much they missed him as they raced off at the simple mention of going back. Of going home. Bard felt like a terrible father, he didn’t deserve his children.

“Oh Til I’m so sorry for what I did, but that’s where we’re going, we’re going to ada, as fast as we can.” Bard apologised, sitting on the edge of her bed, smiling at the surprised glimmer of hope that lit in her eyes at his words.

“We-wer’re going home?” She asked nervously, like she couldn’t quite believe it.

“Yeah darlin’, we’re going home.” Bard smiled, managing to tamp down how frantic he was for a few moments for his daughter.

Tilda shrieked with happiness and threw her arms around his neck before jumping out of bed and starting to tug her things out of the tiny wardrobe, which in turn spurred Bard back into action.

He didn’t have the heart to tell her why they were suddenly racing home. It might be nothing.

He knew it wasn’t.

He raced into his own small room and started throwing his things into his case, heart beating faster with every minute that passed. Dread rose, creeping through him whenever he thought about Thranduil.

Something had happened.

Something had happened and he hadn’t been there.

All he could hear was his blood pumping in his ears as he packed, terrified about what it was that was giving him such fear. Bard forced himself to steady his breathing, to get a grip. He felt so sure but he couldn’t possibly know, not really. And yet he did.

They couldn’t miss that train.

Bard clattered down the stairs with his precariously packed suitcase to find his children already lined up by the door, Sigrid wrapping Tilda up in her coat and Bain shifting their two bags as they waited for Bard. He could’ve cried from relief.

“Right, we need to go and see the Durin’s before we leave.” Bard told them, scooping Tilda up onto his hip as Sigrid took one of the bags off Bain and they started the short walk through rain up to the Durin’s house, Bard keeping Tilda tucked against him to try and keep her at least a little dry.

He needed the little carriage that the Durin’s had, it was small and rickety and on its last legs but it would do the job, without it they were never going to make it to the station in time for the last train. But it wasn’t just that. They had saved them, Bard didn’t even want to think about what might have happened to them if they hadn’t taken them in.

Bard would never leave without saying goodbye, they deserved so much more than that. They deserved an explanation.

As it stood, he didn’t seem to need to give one.

Bard knocked on the door, they wouldn’t be in bed yet, but it was still quite late for them to come calling. Frerin opened the door and his face went from confusion to grim acceptance after taking in their appearance.

“You’re leaving.” Frerin stated, it wasn’t a question, he was fixing Bard with an almost unreadable expression, but disappointment and worry were definitely what was furrowing his strong brow. Bard nodded in response, he didn’t know what to say to him.

“We’re going home!” Tilda shouted happily, wriggling to get down from Bard so she could run forward and throw her arms around Frerin’s middle. “I am really going to miss you though.” She told him, voice muffled by his clothes.

Frerin laid a large hand on her head and ruffled her hair before manoeuvring them back so that they could all get in out the rain before crouching down to get on her eye level.

“You look after your da okay?” He instructed with a sad little smile, bopping her gently on the nose and making her smile. “I’m going to miss you a lot you little rascal.”

“Can’t you come visit?” Tilda asked, biting her lip, Bard knew she wanted to go home, but that didn’t mean she was that happy about leaving the Durin’s behind, neither was Bard to be honest, but they needed to go back. They needed to leave soon or they wouldn’t be in time for the last train, but they deserved their goodbye, they deserved more than Bard would ever be able to repay them.

“We’re going to Moria soon, it’s expensive and long to take the ship to get there. I doubt we’ll ever be able to come visit.” Frerin explained gently, catching her when she dove in for another hug.

“Do you have to go?” Tilda mumbled.

“Yes, we have to go. Just like you have to go home, we’re still trying to find ours.” Frerin smiled sadly before flicking his eyes to Bard and giving him a gentle look.

At some point Dís and Thorin had come down and were saying their goodbyes to Sigrid and Bain. Dís was squeezing the life out of Sigrid in a hug and Thorin had a hand on Bain’s shoulder and was passing him something.  

Frerin let go of Tilda and she ran off to join Sigrid and Dís’ hug.

“You need the carriage?” Frerin more stated than asked as he stood up.

“Yeah. We need to catch the last train.”

“Do you really need to leave tonight?” Frerin asked, he probably thought Bard was being hasty, and that he didn’t have the best track record with leaving places during storms.

“Yes. I can’t explain it. I just, I think something has happened. Something bad.” Bard told him, hoping he didn’t sound like he had completely lost his mind. Frerin just nodded, he looked like he wanted to say something, but he just walked past Bard and outside, presumably to get the horses and the small carriage ready, it was more of a trap really, but it had a makeshift little cover that Bard could only hope would hold up in this weather.

Bard was drawn into a long hug from Dís who was deceptively strong and was forcing some of the air out of his lungs with her affection.

“You had been bloody well write.” She grumbled, but there was only real fondness in her voice.

Eventually she released it and somehow gathered up all of the children in her arms and went back to hugging and saying goodbye to them. Thorin clasped his forearm in his customary shake (well he bumped heads with his brother and sister but Bard was glad to be excused from that particular practice, it looks like it could hurt).

“I wish you all the luck in the world. I hope you find your home, no one deserves to be without.” Thorin said plainly and with such conviction. Bard knew he would never be the kind to begrudge someone their home, wherever that may be.

“Aye. And I hope you get yours back one day. If ever I may help with that, know that I will.” Bard replied honestly, not that he was sure there would ever be much of anything he could do to help, but Thorin saw it for the sincere way he meant it and offered one of his rarer smiles before releasing Bard’s arm.

It was only a few moments before Frerin appeared in the doorway, a little wetter and muckier than before, but Bard could just about make out the horses and carriage behind him.

“We need to get going or we’ll miss the train.” Bard said sadly, he really did wish they had more time to say goodbye, he didn’t like leaving like this, but he disliked the thought of something having happened to Thranduil while he was away even more.

Dís gave the children and Bard one last quick but firm hug each before finally releasing them and herding them into the carriage, telling them that she expected letters every other week and not to do anything she wouldn’t approve of.

They forged out into yet another storm, but this time, they knew where they were going, and that drove them on.

Bard sat out in the rain with Frerin, there wasn’t really room for the four of them under the loose cover, and Bard wanted to spend the last few moment with his friend anyway. Only he had no idea what he wanted to say.

They spent the wet and rickety journey in silence, it worried Bard, he was sure Frerin felt like he was running away from him as well, when that wasn’t it at all. He didn’t want to ruin their friendship, it meant far too much to him, and yet, he had no idea what would be best said.

They got into town and pulled up outside the train station before Bard had worked out what to stay. He didn’t want to leave it like this, but the train would be only minutes away and they couldn’t afford to miss it, the children were already clambering out the back with their suitcases in tow, shouting extra goodbyes to Frerin.

“Thank you.” Bard said, it was insufficient, and didn’t say all of what he needed it to, but he hoped that Frerin knew what he meant anyway. Frerin looked stoically out into the distance, but as Bard sighed and turned to climb out, a strong hand gripped his bicep, making him turn back.

“You will _always_ be my friend and there will _always_ be a place for you and the children, wherever we are.” Frerin stated with such conviction and fierce loyalty that Bard could feel tears of relief threatening.

“Thank you, my friend.” Bard replied, smiling and clasping the hand on his arm before he climbed out.

He only looked back once as they walked into the station, Frerin was already gone, they both knew Bard had made his decision.

“What did Thorin give you?” Bard asked curiously as he saw Bain get it out and carefully fold it and tuck it back into his pocket while they bought their tickets for the train which was already sat in the station.

“Their address in Moria. In case we ever find ourselves needing a home again.” Bain smiled sadly and Bard joined him, but they couldn’t linger as the tickets were passed over to Bard.

They made it onto the train with seconds to spare before it pulled out of the station. It would take them to Rhovanion, but they would still be a little while from Mirkwood Hall itself. Bard hoped they would be able to find trap driver the next day to take them the rest of the way if it was still raining, they had been able to find one when they had first travelled to Mirkwood all that time ago. But if it wasn’t raining they should be able to walk without too much trouble.

Either way it was a slow night train, when he had asked, the conductor had told him they wouldn’t arrive until morning, and Bard wished they could get there faster, but he knew that it was still raining, and no one would be around with any traps at this time of night anyway.

At least they would be able to get some sleep on the train, well, the children would be able to get some sleep, Bard was far too wired for it. He feared what he might dream of if he shut his eyes right now, and he could barely stop himself from bouncing his leg anxiously, he only managed it when Tilda started using him as a pillow and he didn’t want to wake her.

The whole train journey took them into the early hours of the morning, the birds just waking up and sun beginning to shine. At some point during the night the rain had stopped, although the sun would be fighting its way through the clouds all day, it didn’t look like it was likely to start raining again, so instead of waiting around for a few hours until someone would appear with a horse and trap that could take them, they decided to walk. Besides, none of them were in any state of mind to wait around, they wanted to keep going, and every step took them closer to home.

And every step made Bard’s sense of dread ratchet up until he could barely speak.

The walk would probably only take a few hours, it would be into the morning by then and not a ridiculous time in the morning to arrive (not that Bard particularly cared at this point). The kids steadily grew more and more alert and awake as they walked through the brisk morning air, wrapped up in their coats to keep the chill off.

Tilda started chattering away happily as was her way, about all the things she was looking forward to (which mainly consisted of all the games she wanted to play and things she wanted to do with Thranduil and Legolas that she hadn’t been able to for months) but as she spoke happily Bard felt a weight press down on his heart, that dread that had been with him since the previous evening flaring up with a vengeance.

And when Mirkwood Hall came into view through the trees, he knew why.

They ground to a halt as they saw it and just stared, shocked at what they saw.

It was a ruin.

What had once been the proud imposing figure of Mirkwood Hall was now a burnt out shell. Charred and blackened and crumbling, nothing of the proud mysterious Hall that it once had been. Just an empty ghost of what it had been.

They ran.

When they had processed what they were seeing they ran to the door. Only there wasn’t a door anymore, the brick was crumbling and the woodwork was burnt to a cinder or gone entirely.

They stopped at the collapsing remains of the once grand doorway before finally finding the courage, the grim curiosity, to go inside. Although, maybe it didn’t count as inside anymore. There was no roof left.

He kept children close as they made their way through the desecrated building. Each room held only a few ruined remains of furniture and trinkets, broken frames that once had beautiful paintings in them. The remains of their armchairs still sat close and facing each other, although now they looked as though they would break if you touched them. There were beams crashed down over the scarce remains of the interior. None of it was salvageable.

Bard wondered how many of the inhabitants survived.

He wanted to be sick.

Tilda shrieked and pulled out of his hand, he tried to pull her back, this was hardly a safe place for a child, but she was already rushing over to something on the floor that she stooped and picked up.

“What is it Tilda?” He asked, starting to move across the destroyed room (if you could even call it a room anymore) to where she had rushed off to.

She turned around and clasped against her stomach in her hands was the fire blackened but remarkably whole remains of the doll Thranduil had given her, the one she hadn’t let go of until the day Bard had made them leave. 

“Da, where is ada?” She asked, voice small and scared of the answer as her lip trembled when she spoke.

Bard didn’t know but he knew what they both feared, what all four of them feared, Sigrid and Bain helplessly looking at the wreckage around them.

Bard didn’t know what to say. He had no words of comfort for his daughter. He opened his mouth to say something, ready to try and soothe her but no words would come, he just looked powerlessly around the desolated house, the place they had called home.

“You are ghosts.” Came a worn and slightly shocked voice from behind them, making them all whirl around.

It was Tauriel, she looked like she had aged more than a few months should allow but she was _alive_. Maybe she wasn’t the only one who had survived the fire, maybe, _maybe,_ he could risk to hope.

“Tauriel!” The children shouted almost in unison and ran over to her, almost knocking her over with the force of their hugs, one of Tilda’s hands still clinging onto her burnt doll.

“I was sure I would never see you again, I missed you so very much.” Tauriel gasped, wrapped her arms around the three of them as best she could and held them tight.

“Tauriel, what happened here?” Bard asked, panic clear in his tone.

“About a month after you left, there was a fire in the dead of night. It had already taken half of the Hall by the time anybody woke. Thranduil, he got everyone up and he carried out Legolas and then he kept going back into the fire. Each time he’d come out carrying a different servant. Someone who had failed to wake up before the smoke got to them. I kept trying to get him to stop, he’d done enough and the fire was getting so bad, he was coughing harder each time, but he just wouldn’t stop. He came out with Feren and that was all of us, he had saved every single one of us. Well, all except one.

“He went back in for his wife, but she had started the fire, was right at the centre of it there was no way he could reach her but he still went back in. I swear I could hear her laughing. I still hear it sometimes. And Thranduil he, he wasn’t coming back out, he’d been in there too long, the whole building was coming down so– ”

“Don’t say it.” Bard gasped, shutting his eyes and not ready for what he was sure she was about to say.

“– I went in for him, when I found him there was a beam across him, it had fallen and knocked him out but I was able to drag him out of the wreckage.”

“Is he alive?” Bard whispered, terrified of the answer, but Tauriel nodded, hesitantly, but nodded nonetheless.

The relief crashed over him and he buried his face in his hands, releasing a broken sob, his kids releasing Tauriel to come and hold onto him instead, he almost crumpled against them.

“Where is he?” Bard asked desperately, he needed to see him.

“Eryn Lasgalen manor, we live there now. Well, some of us, many went their own way after the fire. He didn’t want so many people around all the time.” Tauriel explained quietly.

“Can you take us there?” Bard requested, trying to get a hold of himself, trying to stop shaking. 

“Yes, I was going back there myself anyway.” Tauriel nodded and she led the way to a new looking carriage, helping the children in before turning to Bard before he climbed on as well.

“Bard,” Tauriel started, laying a gentle hand on Bard’s arm. “He- he didn’t escape that fire well. I, he, well. Maybe it is not my place. You will find out.” She sighed, moving up to sit with the horses reigns, Bard sat down next to her gingerly.

For a second they didn’t move, Bard wondered why but then Tauriel turned to him and spoke again.

“You cannot leave him again. If you come back you come back to stay. He could not handle it a second time. Neither could Legolas.” She said plainly, concern for them both clear in her every word, every mannerism.

“I could never leave again. I never should have in the first place.” Bard admitted, ashamed of how he had left, even more so now he knew Thranduil had been alone through this ordeal, although he was also glad his own children hadn’t been caught in it, maybe he could have stopped it from happening, gotten everyone out faster.

Tauriel must have been satisfied with his answer because soon the horses started moving, pulling them up the old familiar road leading down to what was left of Mirkwood Hall. They travelled in silence for a little while before Bard spoke again, swallowing thickly around the lump in his throat as he tried to speak.

“Thranduil does he, does he still– ” _does he still love me_. Bard couldn’t form the sentence, the answer scared him too much, there was a chance he did not, he had moved on, it had been months after all and Bard had broken his heart. It was selfish, but he didn’t know if he would be able to bear it.

“Oh Bard.” Tauriel replied, sighing and squeezing his hands where he wrung them nervously in his lap. “He will never stop loving you.”

There was another stretch of silence, slightly more comfortable than the last, but Bard was wound tight, he would be until he saw Thranduil again, safe and unharmed and sat among new gardens.

“Why were you at the house?” Bard asked, it made no sense why Tauriel would be there, it was a ruin.

“I come into town once a week to collect your letters to Legolas from the post office, they hold them there for me now. I can never help but come and visit the Hall. It almost feels like it couldn’t be real.” She explained, turning the horses carefully up another track and into thicker canopied trees.

“He still reads them?” Bard answered, unable to keep the gladness from his voice, that Legolas had been reading all of his messages.

“You’re letters have kept them going. Both of them. I don’t know what they would have done without them. They held onto them as a part of you, always hoping beyond hope that you would come back, that you would come home. I collect them for him, and Legolas reads them over and over to Thranduil.” She said, a melancholy smile on her lips.

Bard wondered why Legolas read them to Thranduil. Maybe he was just trying to practice his reading with him, Bard had no idea if they had hired a new tutor or not. But still, he was surprised that Thranduil chose Bard’s letters to be read aloud for him, instead of a book or something, let alone many times over. It didn’t make sense.

Eventually, long after they had passed any other houses or buildings, they pulled around a corner and a beautiful manor came into view. The marble was white and the trees around it a vibrant green. There was none of the grey mystery about it that had constantly lingered like a fog around Mirkwood Hall, and yet, there was something so lonely about it as it sat isolated from the world and encased in trees.

Tauriel pulled the horses to a stop outside the manor and they all raced down from the carriage, but Tauriel caught his arm before they could race off.

“He’ll probably be in the gardens.” She told him and Bard went to pull away and race to his side but she held firm on his arm. “Bard, you should go alone, I think, just at first. He did not escape the blaze uninjured.” Bard swallowed thickly and nodded, worry rearing up again. He’d been so preoccupied with knowing he was alive that he hadn’t even considered what might have happened to him in the fire. Tauriel had to drag him out, she said a beam landed on him. _Oh God_ what had happened?

“Kids can you stay with Tauriel for a little while? Just for a little while.” Bard asked them, trying to keep his voice from shaking, and reluctantly they all held back with Tauriel. Bard gave them a weak smile before turning and racing towards the gardens.

He saw him in the distance as he turned around the back of the house. Sat unmoving on a white marble bench in the sunlight just on the edge of the treeline was Thranduil. Bard gasped on the sight, he had missed him so violently he felt his knees could buckle.

Bard stumbled towards him as fast as his weak legs could take him, but as he got closer, he saw.

He saw the way his hair was shorter, like it had had to be cut down, he knew Thranduil would never have done that willingly. He saw the gnarled burn scar running down the left side of his face. He saw the red wound reaching out over his left hand as well and the cane resting to Thranduil’s side, Bard knew without looking that the damage stretched over the whole left side of his body. He saw that one of Thranduil’s eyes was completely clouded white and the other was also slightly misted as well.

“Who is there?” Thranduil demanded, voice firm and defensive. He saw that Thranduil could not see from either cloudy eye as his head whipped around when he heard footsteps, looking in Bard’s general direction but unable to fix his eyes on him.

Bard continued to make his way forward slowly, his breath hitching as he got closer, as he saw the extent of the damage the fire did. He should have been there.

“I said who is there.” Thranduil demanded again, hands fisting in his frustration and involuntary vulnerability. Bard loosed a quiet sob as Thranduil looked straight through him. “Get back.” Thranduil growled.

“Thran.” Bard choked out, his voice was thin and desperate and the moment the name passed his lips Thranduil looked even more scared than he had when he felt cornered and helpless only moments ago, now he sunk in on himself in a way that was so tired and hurt, resigned.

“Be gone, spectre.” Thranduil whispered and Bard’s heart broke more than he had believed possible.

“Thran it’s me I’m here. I’m so sorry. It’s me.” Bard pleaded, voice cracking with every word.

“Please. Do not taunt me. Your voice is his, but he is not here. Haunt me no longer.” Thranduil replied his tone was begging. How many times had he thought he could hear him? It did not bear thinking about.

“Thran, it’s me.” Bard tried again and he could see tears welling in Thranduil’s broken eyes as he opened his mouth to beg the ghost to leave him again but Bard reached out gently and cupped his smooth right cheek.

Thranduil’s entire body jarred at the soft touch and he gasped desperately, hope flickering in his expression.

“B-bard.” He whispered, voice barely audible as his hand came up to hold Bard’s against him.

“Yes, yes it’s me, I’m here, it’s me.” Bard assured him between tears that were forcing through his voice, resting his other hand ever so carefully against Thranduil’s left arm.

“Bard.” Thranduil said louder this time, more desperately, clinging to Bard’s arms and pulling him closer, his hands travelling along his arms, across his shoulder and up his neck until his fingers were reverently mapping over his face, across his short beard, over his cheeks, his eyebrows, his nose, chin, forehead, until sinking into his hair and resting their foreheads together, both of them letting out shaky breaths.

“Bard.” He stated again, practically cried out as tears fell past his whitened eyes and started to spill down his cheeks.

“I’m here. I’m here. Oh god I never should have left. I am so sorry, I’m so sorry Thran, I– ” Bard gasped out, he wanted to melt into Thranduil. He never would be parted from him again.

“No it is my fault. I never should have lied, I made you leave. I hate myself for it. I will never forgive myself. You can never forgive me I– ” Thranduil wept but it wasn’t his fault, Bard should have come back a long time ago, he had let this happen. How could he leave him alone knowing there was someone there trying to take his life? He hadn’t even thought. He had been selfish.

“I forgave you, I forgave a long time ago. But I was too much of a coward to come back after abandoning you like that. God I am so sorry. What have I done? I could have saved you from this. I could have– ” Bard ghosted a caress over the marred flesh on his face and Thranduil suddenly recoiled out of his hold, pulling back stiffly and turning his face away.

“I am sorry. I know things cannot be the same. That you couldn’t feel the same about me anymore with this. I used to be so beautiful. And now.” Thranduil said bitterly, gesturing at his left side.

“No.” Bard protested vehemently. “I only wish I could have saved you from the pain I did not mean I do not love you anymore because nothing could be further from the truth. How could you think that this would change the way I feel about you?”

“I have never seen the extent of the damage, but I can feel it. Bard I know it is ugly.” Thranduil replied sadly, Bard couldn’t let Thranduil think these things, so he caught his chin and guided Thranduil to face him.

“You will always be the most beautiful thing in the world to me.” Bard told him fiercely, then before he could dispute him again, Bard kissed him.

Bard was careful of his scars, but he kissed him hard nonetheless. He poured himself into it, everything he was sorry for, how much he had missed him, how much he loved him, how much he would always love him. it only took Thranduil a moment of shock before he was responding in kind, tangling his right hand in Bard’s hair the same way Bard had one caught in his shorter but still as soft as silk hair.

The kiss was desperate relief, it was a thousand apologies and it was a promise.

Bard was home. 

“I wish I could have seen you, one last time.” Thranduil sighed when Bard rested their foreheads back together, eyes shut, hands carefully cradling Thranduil’s face as Thranduil’s hands continued to skate over him, learning him in touch.

“I’m right here.” Bard breathed. “I’ll always be right here.”

“The children?” Thranduil asked tentatively, hands still gripping onto Bard’s shirt like he was worried he would disappear again.

“Yes, yes they’re here, they’re home. Do you want them to come over?” Bard checked but Thranduil nodded quickly and desperately, Bard looked around to see Tauriel holding back his children, but the moment he waved the forward they pulled free, charging towards them with shouts of ‘ada!’ and ‘we missed you’.

They were careful when they got to him, Bard knew they would be. But despite his injuries Thranduil encased all three of them in a warm hug as best he could and then they were jumping around beside him telling him stories of what they had been doing – always telling him that they wished he had been there – and getting pulled back into cuddles as they told him more stories.

Bard let them have their moment, besides, he was looking for someone. He scanned his eyes around the grounds and his ears finally picked up a distant shout coming from across the green, from the tree line on the other side. Bard was running before he even saw him emerge.

“Da! Da!” Legolas shouted as he came crashing out from the trees and tore across the green towards them.

Bard caught him and scooped him up as soon as he got to him, Legolas practically crashing into him and wrapping his arms around Bard’s neck so tight he was cutting off some of his air, but Bard didn’t care.

“Da, da is it really you?” Legolas demanded as Bard held onto him, wrapping him up in a huge hug.

“Yeah, it’s me, I’m here.” Bard tried to soothe but really he knew he was crying into Legolas’ golden hair.

“You aren’t allowed to leave again. You’re not allowed to do that.” Legolas sniffed into Bard’s shoulder.

“Okay.” Bard replied, holding Legolas as hard as he could without hurting him.

“No! You have to promise. You have to promise me!” Legolas shouted and god he was so scared Bard was going to leave again. How could he have done that? How could he have abandoned him like that?

He would make it up to him. He had to.

“I promise. I promise I will never leave you again. We’ll always be together, all six of us. We’re never going to leave. I promise.” Bard assured and he could feel Legolas’ tears soaking through his shirt and onto his shoulder just as he knew he was making Legolas’ golden hair damp himself.

“We missed you.” Legolas sniffled into his shoulder.

“We missed you too.” Bard breathed, kissing his yellow hair.

“Don’t go again.” Legolas whispered, little fists tightening on his clothes again.

“We won’t, I promise you. I will prove it every day.” Bard told him, knowing he needed to hear it again, that he would probably need to hear it a lot for a long time.

Bard carried him back over to the others as Legolas started to tell him about how good he had got with his numbers and reading and how nice the woods around the manor were and places he wanted to show Bard and the others.

Bard sat down with Legolas on his lap on the floor next to where Thranduil was sitting on his marble bench as their kids swarmed around him chattering and making him daisy chains and all their faces were blotchy from tears but none of them cared. They hadn’t smile like this in a long time.

Bard rested his hand on the bench while Legolas tied his own flower chain around Bard’s wrist, and when he was done Thranduil’s hand found his and held onto it like he never planned on letting go.

They would be okay.

They were all going to be okay.   

 


	12. Epilogue

 

They slipped back into their life together with an ease that should have been impossible given how many things had changed, how much had happened, and Bard had never thought that people like them would be able to ever be happy. But each day he was proven more wrong.

Every morning he woke up next to the man he loved. He was the last thing he saw when he fell asleep and the first thing he saw when he woke up and Bard had to take a moment every time he woke to try and process how lucky they were to be able to have this. The household staff was small, just Tauriel and a few others from Mirkwood Hall, they had all known before and they hadn’t cared then either, and they didn’t now. Bard guessed when someone dragged you out of a burning building you were more concerned with their happiness than who it was with.

It took a while to get Thranduil out of bed in the mornings, he had never liked the mornings, although Bard knew a few ways to wake him up that usually went down well (in both senses). But he was still the same Thran who never wanted to get up before midday without incentive, which Bard was happy to give.

The first night Bard was back they had slipped into bed and just held each other through the night. Bard was fairly certain neither of them had actually slept for even a second, too busy holding onto what they had only recently gotten back.

The next day, when Bard had finally gotten him out of his big comfy bed, smiling like a moron to know that some things never changed, at the way he felt like he was almost drowning in home and happiness. They had spent the day with the children, none of them wanting to be parted for very long, settling outside in the sunshine and wiling the day away together. There were so many stories to tell, the good and the bad.

In the late afternoon Thranduil helped down in the kitchen with dinner, they all did. The manor’s cook, Galion, had more funny anecdotes than the rest of them combined. Bard could see why Thranduil enjoyed spending time down there, and Galion delighted in the three extra children running about.

They tucked the children into their various beds. They each got a room to themselves, the manor had just enough bedrooms for it, Bard knew that wouldn’t have been an accident. When Bard tucked Legolas in he always told him he would see him in the morning so that he would have no doubt that Bard was going anywhere, not ever again. Thranduil couldn’t read stories from books, but it seemed that he had become very good at making them up instead, Tilda refused to go to bed without one of his stories and Bard always caught the others listening in as well.

After their children had gone to bed on that first day Thranduil had taken Bard’s hand and tugged him gently through the house, barely even having to use the wall to guide him. It was strange to think that Thranduil had never actually seen the house he knew so well, he knew it’s every twist and turn, every bump in the flooring and uneven step, but he had never seen what colours the walls were. He wondered if anyone had told him.

“Where are we going?” Bard asked with a soft smile that Thranduil couldn’t see, but Bard knew that he knew was there. It was there all the time at the moment.

“Someplace that is ours.” Thranduil replied, and at first Bard didn’t know what he meant, he hadn’t even been in the manor for two whole days yet. But then Thranduil reached a beautifully carved door and opened it.

And it was theirs.

“I haven’t really ever been in here. I have little use for books now, Legolas is not old enough to read anything complicated to me and Tauriel is busy, although she obliges me when she can. But I didn’t like spending time in here alone when it had always been our room in the Hall.” Thranduil explained quietly as Bard took in the room.

It was the library. Much smaller than the one in the hall, but still, it was the library. And next to the hearth, crackling with warmth, were two armchairs set facing each other, just a little too close for two friends. 

Bard read to him every day.

 

Some days Thranduil’s injuries barely hurt him at all, but others he would be in excruciating pain whenever he moved. Bard had no idea what made them flare up but they had the best doctors trying to work it out so that they could avoid or at least minimise them. Those days were hard. But they got through them together, Bard quickly learnt what Thranduil could and couldn’t manage on both bad and good days.

On the really bad days, the days when Thranduil couldn’t walk without help, when he was in too much pain to get out of bed without making it even worse, they got through it. They always got through it.

But what was hardest was his sight. Because that didn’t change from day to day. It was just gone. And Bard had no idea how to make it any better.

Bard mentioned that Legolas had grown when he first arrived and Thranduil had smiled wistfully, before sadly asking Bard to describe it, what he looked like taller. Such a simple thing and yet all Thranduil wanted was to be able to see it for himself, see his children grow and change and see what Bard was wearing and how he smiled. But he couldn’t.

It was simple and small comments that cut through Bard’s heart.

“What is Tilda’s new dress like?” One of his favourite things had been buying clothes, especially for the girls, now Bard described the garments to him as best he could so that he could still choose them.

“What do the stars look like tonight?” He had always loved telling Bard about the stars, Bard could never do them justice now he was telling Thranduil.

“Bain has grown hasn’t he? His voice has moved.” He had loved measuring the children back in Mirkwood Hall, every week, one of the doorframes had little markings all over it. 

“Tell me about the room.” He asked occasionally, he’d never been able to see it. Bard forgot that sometimes, that he had never seen this beautiful manor house, Thranduil always smiled when he told him about it.

“I wish I could see your smile.” Bard made sure he could feel it, he pressed his smiles into his skin, squeezed them into his hand, kissed them onto his mouth, he covered him in his smiles.

“What are the gardens like at the moment? Have the flowers started blooming yet?” Spring was his favourite time of year, always had been, he had loved to walk among his carefully tended garden while things came into bloom. Bard could help him tend his garden, but he could not show him what it looked like.

“Is that braid okay?” He would always ask, even though he could do them seamlessly, sight or no sight, but he was anxious when he could not see it that he had messed it up, though he never had.

“What does Sigrid look like?” He asked one day, years after Bard and the children had settled into life with them. “She must be growing into a lady now.”

“She’s changed a lot. She looks more like her mother every day. She’s so beautiful and tall and strong.” Bard told him, and it was inadequate, nothing would ever make up for the fact that he could not see his daughter, he could not see any of his children.

“I wish I could see her.”

 

There were really good days to balance out the bad ones. On days when Thranduil’s injuries were being kind and not hurting him, he could barely be convinced to keep his hands off of Bard, no matter the location. The only thing that seemed able to stop him was the whereabouts of the children, and only the children.

They had once been in the parlour with the children tucked into bed but the rest of the household still awake, Thranduil claiming that his loss of sight had only made his already impressive hearing even better so he would know if anyone was coming. Tauriel probably wished _she_ was blind. But then Thranduil was laughing so freely and so happily that it was difficult for either for them to be angry. They were all still getting used to hearing it again.

Bard would always remember the first time they were together in the manor.

They were in the library, Thranduil, having migrated from his own armchair and into Bard’s lap was running his long fingers through Bard’s hair and seemed to be trying to learn Bard’s face with his lips, trailing them and dropping kisses as he went.

After a little while, Bard guided Thranduil’s lips to his own so that he could really kiss Thranduil and he just melted into Bard’s arms, he had almost forgotten what it felt like. He kissed Thranduil deep and slow, pressing his tongue past those plush red lips and getting a sigh from Thranduil as he ran his tongue along Thranduil’s.

He had one hand buried in that spun-silk hair, getting longer every day, and the other cupping his right cheek, brushing his thumb to and fro across Thranduil’s smooth, snowy skin. Thranduil pulled his lips away from Bard’s to nibble on his ear and suck on his neck in a way that began stirring interest in other parts of Bard, which wouldn’t have been a problem were it not for the way Thranduil started rocking his own hips down.

Bard groaned and he could feel Thranduil’s smirk against his neck as he nipped at the skin there. Bard wanted nothing more than to strip Thranduil off and have him right there, but he didn’t want to hurt him, he didn’t know what Thranduil could manage, even though it was a good day for his injuries.

Wary of the injuries to his left side, Bard carefully stroked a hand down Thranduil’s chest until it came to the bulge in his breeches. He squeezed him lightly through the fabric and started rubbing his cock through his trousers, making Thranduil moan and bury his head in the side of Bard’s neck, thrusting his hips in little abortive jerks against his hand.

“W-wait.” Thranduil gasped out when Bard started unlacing his breeches, Bard froze immediately.

“Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you did I? Thran I’m sorry.” Bard started panicking, worried he had hurt Thranduil or pushed him too far. He hadn’t been back that long after all. “If you don’t want to that’s fine. God I’m sorry I shouldn’t have I– ” Thranduil stopped his worried babbling by kissing him, he kissed him firmly and with such surety that Bard couldn’t help his sigh of relief. 

“All I was going to say.” Thranduil murmured between kisses. “Is that I want you to take me properly, so the bed would probably be a better venue.” Thranduil smirked at him as Bard blushed in embarrassment.

“Oh.” Bard replied, biting his lip, it had been far too long, he wanted nothing more than to feel Thranduil like that again.

“Is that amenable to you?” Thranduil teased him with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

Bard didn’t bother speaking, he just scooped Thranduil up in his arms and carried him to the door, pulling a delighted laugh from Thranduil as he slung his arms around Bard’s neck. And well, if they were being a little dramatic it didn’t matter, it wasn’t like anyone else could see them.

Bard laid Thranduil down on the large bed and crawled over him, slowly starting to unbutton his rich clothes and discard them onto the floor. When his chest was bare Bard lavished it with kissed, delicately trailing his lips over the long scaring all the way down his left and watching Thranduil’s face for any signs of discomfort, but there were none today.

When he got his lips around one of Thranduil’s nipples his face contorted in pleasure and he let out a whine, his back arching off the bed. Bard toyed with the bud in his mouth, nibbling at it and flicking it with his tongue as he undid the fastenings on Thranduil’s breeches, finally pulling off his abused nipple to drag his trousers off his legs and toss them onto the floor.

Thranduil’s left hip and leg was scarred and mottled with raised red marks, some of them still looked angry but most were starting to fade into an old pink. Bard carefully kissed his way down the long, elegant leg and back up the inside, repeating the action on his other leg. His cock was flushed a deep red and standing proud against his stomach and Bard deliberately avoided it as his kissed his way back up to Thranduil’s mouth.

“Bard.” He whined, bucking his hips up to try and get some friction where he wanted it most, Bard just continued biting at his jaw.

Thranduil huffed in frustration and started impatiently tugging at Bard’s clothes, pulling them off one by one and tossing them onto the floor. He unfastened Bard’s breeches with surprisingly deft fingers and snaked a hand inside, wrapping around Bard’s hot erection and stroking him far too lightly to do anything but tease and ramp up Bard’s need. It worked and left Bard groaning into Thranduil’s neck.

“Bedside table.” Thranduil whispered into Bard’s ear and he groped around until he came back with a vial of oil, Thranduil already spreading his legs invitingly and exposing himself to Bard’s gaze.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Bard murmured, even though Thranduil’s injuries weren’t causing him massive pain Bard knew that they were never entirely pain free, he didn’t want to make it worse.

“You won’t.” Thranduil replied, carding his hand’s through Bard’s hair, his broken eyes resting closed. “But I promise to tell you if you do.” He conceded and Bard let out an exhale before dropping a kiss to Thranduil’s reddened lips and taking the stopper out of the vial.

He slicked up his fingers and circled his index around Thranduil’s rim before slowly pressing it inside, Thranduil let out a his pitched whine as Bard gradually pushed it all the way inside.

“God you’re tight.” Bard groaned as he started moving his finger, beginning to stretch Thranduil to be able to take a second finger.

“Yes well, it has been months.” Thranduil gasped, rolling his hips down onto Bard’s finger. “Give me another.” Thranduil groaned impatiently and Bard would have protested but Thranduil had always liked to really feel the stretch, just this side of painful. So he obliged, carefully pushing in a second finger next to the first and dragging a long moan past Thranduil’s lips.

He scissored Thranduil open, unable to take his eyes off of his expressive face, always so open during sex and eventually he was able to press a third finger into his impossibly tight heat with the other two. He stroked around, and it only took him moments to find Thranduil’s sweet spot now he was looking for it, it seems that he had not forgotten where it was.

Thranduil cried out, arching off the bed, panting and pushing his hips down to get more, to take Bard’s fingers deeper.

“Please. I’m ready.” Thranduil moaned and Bard kissed him as he withdrew his fingers and slicked up his own cock before lining up against Thranduil.

Bard pressed inside in one long slow movement, both of them panting for air as Bard bottomed out. He managed to keep his hips still and stroked a hand down Thranduil’s side until Thranduil wrapped his legs around Bard’s waist.

“Move.” He said and it was dragged into another moan as Bard started rolling his hips.

They stayed close, even as Bard started fucking into Thranduil in earnest, Thranduil’s legs around his waist and arms around his back, holding onto each other almost desperately, Bard holding himself just off of Thranduil’s scars but close enough that he could feel his heat.

With a small shift in his angle Bard found his mark and Thranduil started letting a never ending string of whimpers and half formed words fall past his open lips. Bard knew that neither of them were going to last, it had been too long since they had been together, they were too charged with emotion and need for either of them to last. Bard’s thrusts were already losing their rhythm as he drove into that tight heat and Thranduil was whimpering and pushing his hips down onto Bard in the way that Bard knew meant he was close.

Thranduil had always liked to look at Bard when as they reached climax, to hold his eyes as they both lost themselves in each other, tethering them together as they came. This time he tangled his hands in Bard’s hair and brought their foreheads together and their breath mingled from the closeness and their eyes were closed and it was impossibly more intimate than it ever had been, and as they came together they lost themselves in each other just like they used to.

Bard carefully collapsed to Thranduil’s right, both of them panting heavily as they came down from their orgasms. Eventually Bard groped around on the floor and cleaned them off with whatever garment he had grabbed off the floor before throwing it back down.

He managed to manoeuvre them both under the covers and Thranduil wrapped himself around Bard as he always liked to after sex (and just in general to be honest). Thranduil traced absentminded patterns against Bard’s chest as they drifted off and Bard stroked his fingers through Thranduil’s hair.

“Love you.” Bard sighed, still come dumb and high from his orgasm but meaning it with every fibre of his being.

“Love you too.” Thranduil murmured back, they said it to each other every day, Bard would never get tired of saying it or hearing it.

 

So they lived in Eryn Lasgalen manor, and the years passed them by and nothing came to steal their happiness away, and eventually, Bard stopped waiting for the ground to be pulled out from under them. There were still bad days for Thranduil, but with time they became increasingly few and far between.

After four years of living there, Tauriel had been swept off her feet by a young man named Kili who worked out on a farm a few fields over and had ended up chasing his escaped chicken all the way into their garden and to Tauriel’s feet (she had effortlessly caught the chicken herself).

They had been taken with each other from the word go and Thranduil was less than pleased about the prospect of losing Tauriel and had grumped his way through their romance until he begrudgingly accepted it with some needling from Bard. It was nice to see Tauriel so happy.

However, what neither Bard nor Thranduil had anticipated was the introduction of Kili’s brother to Sigrid.

Protective father mode had been turned on to the max when that happened, much to the amusement of most and the annoyance of Sigrid. At least neither of the brothers seemed to care about the exact nature of Bard and Thranduil’s relationship, which was certainly a point in their favour.

But what really made Bard accept it was when he found out that Fili and Kili’s surname was not just a coincidence and made the long overdue connection that they were in fact Dís’ sons. Small world.

Now it was a year of courting later, and their daughter was about to turn twenty and walk down the aisle to Fili.

It was the perfect day, Thranduil had even donated the money to allow the Durin’s to travel from Moria for the wedding (which they weren’t going to miss for the world considering who it was between). Thranduil and Thorin butted heads more than a few times, but Bard managed to keep Thranduil in line and Thorin seemed somewhat distracted by a baker from town who was one of Fili’s friends and had diligently listened to Thranduil’s every demand about the cake, and he had met Thranduil’s demands easily, no matter how complex.

Thranduil had planned the whole thing, as if he would trust anyone else to do it. Bard had described so many different shades of red and white (he hadn’t even known there _were_ shades of white) and styles of table settings and the design of the cake and the way certain mixtures of flowers looked on the table (although Thranduil knew his flowers too well to really need Bard’s help deciding which he wanted, just making sure they were arranged correctly).

The only thing he hadn’t been in charge off was the dress. He didn’t trust himself with it as he couldn’t see it, and he wanted Sigrid to choose it anyway, he had just wanted to see it.

Bard himself hadn’t known what it looked like until Sigrid appeared next to him to be walked down the aisle. She looked beautiful. Bard would never be able to describe her or the dress in a way that did her justice but he would damn well try for Thranduil.

He took his daughters arm and walked her down the aisle towards Fili (and a grinning Kili at his side) before taking his place beside Thranduil in the front row. He found Thranduil’s hand and gave it a squeeze, Thranduil’s hand was trembling. Bard knew it must be killing him not to be able to see this, but he was sat next to him and he was visibly shaking and it was concerning him. Bard turned to ask him what was wrong but something caught his eye.

Thranduil was crying. A light stream of tears were rolling down his right cheek. He hadn’t been able to cry since the fire, too much damage had been done to his eyes, including his tear ducts. But there it was, tears falling from his right eye.

And- and, _and he was looking directly at her_.

He couldn’t– it wasn’t possible, was it? The doctor had said the chances of recovery were incredibly slim even in his less damaged eye. It was practically impossible, and yet… 

Thranduil let out a shaky breath and whispered.

“She is beautiful.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed it! Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> Come say hi on [tumbles](http://obithefabulous.tumblr.com/)


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